You Didn't Eat Your Gun
by RipleysSister
Summary: This story is on hold indefinitely. To be finished someday in the future. With the Ori invasion still on his mind, Jack is in the right place at the right time to help Jethro when he's injured.
1. Chapter 1

This crossover story was written for fun, and I am not profiting in any way. Everything about _Stargate SG-1_ and _NCIS_ belong to somebody else and no copyright infringement was intended.

**Story summary** – Jack O'Neill and Leroy Jethro Gibbs understand each other. In this story Jack is dealing with the Ori invasion and later is in the right place at the right time with the right asset when Jethro needs help. In a few days when Jethro is distraught and battling depression, he doesn't turn to his team or Ducky or Mike or Jenny. He turns to Jack.

The four episodes defining the time line and most of the content for this story are:  
_Stargate SG-1_ season 9 episode "Camelot" aired on March 10, 2006.  
_NCIS_ season 3 episode "Hiatus part 1" aired on May 9, 2006.  
_Stargate SG-1_ season 10 episode "Flesh and Blood" aired on July 14, 2006.  
_NCIS_ season 3 episode "Hiatus part 2" aired on May 16, 2006.  
The two _Stargate SG-1_ episodes aired consecutively, as did the two _NCIS_ episodes.

**Story time frame**– I nudged the time lines for the shows a little. Some of the events in the Stargate episodes and "Hiatus part 1" occur on the same day and then the rest of "Flesh and Blood" and "Hiatus part 2" follow along. You'll see what I mean. I apologize to anyone who is offended because I took the liberty to change things just a bit. I needed to merge the episodes to make the story work. There is also mention of events brought to light in the beginning of the _Stargate SG-1_ episode "Morpheus," which aired on July 21, 2006, after "Flesh and Blood."

Warning - Spoilers for the five episodes and both television series. See the rating for other concerns.

**Rated T** - Contains conversation about suicide. Contains minor graphic medical references related to violent injury and death. Mention of terrorism. Mild profanity. No violence. No sexual situations. No pairings.

In my world, Jack O'Neill and Leroy Jethro Gibbs are friends from way back.

Title: "You Didn't Eat Your Gun"

* * *

Major General Jack O'Neill had been at home when Major General Hank Landry first contacted him after the Free Jaffa reported the discovery of a super gate. It had been the middle of the night and Jack had been sound asleep when the phone woke him. Hank had told him that they had been unable to establish a connection to the closest planet, P3Y-229, so Jack had authorized Odyssey to pick up SG-1 and go investigate, confirm and deal with the gate. Knowing the Ori had been building ships and that a working super gate would indicate an imminent invasion threat, he had consulted his chain of command, waking them in the middle of the night. He called the IOA, and didn't have a problem at all with waking them up, and then he contacted his counterpart, a Deputy Prime Minister in the Russian Federation, who had been eating breakfast when Jack got him on the phone.

It had all been part of a negotiated political dance and before Jack could suggest it, the DPM had insisted that the Korolev be involved with any and all space gate discoveries and that included destroying them. Jack had been all for getting the ship out there, Earth needed to hit the Ori head on, but many of the personnel hadn't been fully trained ;and while it was space worthy, the ship's interior construction was incomplete. A lack of trained workers was compounded by only one working restroom, no sickbay, no galley, missing compartment bulkheads, exposed electrical wiring throughout and few working consoles, including bridge consoles. Construction crews had already been working 24/7 to finish it and crew training had been ongoing, but the ship's systems were unknown to most of the newly assigned personnel and it had been taking some time.

Jack had been concerned that even though space worthy, the ship and especially the crew needed a true shakedown cruise. It did have working beam and ring technologies, intergalactic hyperdrive and shields, but going across the galaxy and possibly into battle with the Ori would not be the best way to identify deficits or problems. He had suggested another week of training and that would also provide time for completing the consoles, the restrooms and partial galley and sickbay. The Deputy Prime Minister, who had agreed to two hours of intense training, had scoffed at Jack's concern as had Colonel Chekov from the bridge of the Korolev as it prepared to travel to the other side of the galaxy.

Before jumping into hyperspace, his last words to O'Neill had been, "You have always underestimated us," and Jack, who ached to tell the Colonel where to go and what to do when he got there had diplomatically responded, "Good luck, Colonel." Jack's gut had warned him that the Ori would not be easy to defeat, their ships not so easy to destroy, and sending an additional 304 to go head to head with them would not make any difference. He just hoped that his gut had been wrong, because it could mean that both Earth ships wouldn't be coming back.

Landry had kept in touch with Jack throughout the rest of the night and very early morning, keeping him updated at his office in the Pentagon. The status message to Stargate Command from Odyssey's commander, Colonel Paul Emerson, had been a routine check-in to confirm the existence of the super gate and that it appeared to be fully formed and functional. A message explaining their plan had followed: they intended to establish an outgoing wormhole before the Ori could dial in through the gate. Both Landry and O'Neill had seen no reason for them not to try, especially since weapons fire from the Jaffa ships had failed to even tarnish the gate, let alone damage or destroy it.

A couple of hours later, Odyssey had transmitted an urgent message announcing that they had been too late in dialing the super gate and that when their newest enemy established a wormhole first, four Ori ships had streamed through the alien transportation device into the Milky Way Galaxy. A garbled transmission from the Korolev had cut in and out with interference, but the audio had been clear enough: the armada, consisting of Korolev, Odyssey, an Asgard ship and a fleet of Free Jaffa vessels had been attacked. Static had been heard for several seconds before communication with the Earth ship had been abruptly lost.

"The last communication from Odyssey was a corrupted data burst. Communication with the Korolev was cut off. We'll keep trying to get them back."  
"Still nothing."  
"We'll keep trying."

* * *

It had been a very busy morning at NCIS headquarters with lots of calls coming in. There had been a female petty officer mugged at Canal Park, blood had been discovered at the Navy Museum, a missing child had apparently been sighted at a strip mall, there was a domestic dispute and a probable suicide had been discovered.

The team led by Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had drawn the Navy Museum call at 8:45am. Staff preparing for a visit from an elementary school class had found what looked like blood on the floor of the gift shop and security had not found an injured person or a body in the building. NCIS had been called and on arrival, Gibbs had sent his team to talk to the employees and look around while he got the kit to test the stain. While down on one knee to get a sample, he saw a black streak in his peripheral vision and turned his head to see what it could have been. A storeroom door had been left open and he got up and walked over to it, intending to look inside.

"I got nothin', boss," DiNozzo's voice boomed from the doorway.

Gibbs stopped in mid-stride, turning to glare at the other agent who got the message to keep quiet.

"What's the boss doing?" This time it was McGee and though he hadn't practically shouted like Tony, he hadn't been quiet either.

Tony turned and gave him a loud exaggerated "Shhh," with his index finger to his lips.

Gibbs had his hand on the door knob and had then stopped to listen before pulling the door open a little more. With Tony and Tim both silent, he quickly glanced into the opening and then pulled back before reaching for the wall switch to turn on the interior light. DiNozzo moved quickly up behind him and McGee stood to the side and both men had drawn their guns.

Listening closely and knowing he had heard something, Gibbs opened the door a little more and peeked inside, in the direction of the faint sounds.

In a loud whisper DiNozzo warned, "Watch out, Boss," McGee hissed, "I thought museum security already looked everywhere," and from the gift shop door Ziva exclaimed, "The employees do not know anything." After a second pause she asked curtly, "What is Gibbs doing?"

Still poised at the storeroom threshold, Gibbs knew what had caused the black streak and had turned to give his team a withering glare before telling Ziva to close the door. She looked confused, but didn't respond as she stepped fully into the shop and closing the door behind her.

McGee, who was more confused than ever, couldn't stay quiet. "Boss?"

Gibbs raised his hand for them all to be quiet and again peered around the corner of the doorway. Ready to inform the others, he suddenly pulled the door closed and turned to them.

"Put away your weapons."

DiNozzo gasped, "Boss?" Ziva and MvGee simply stared, wide eyed and confused.

"Ziva, go ask the employees if anyone knows about the cat in this storeroom. Go with her DiNozzo, and if nobody claims it.."

"Got it, Boss." He had holstered his weapon and moved toward the door when he said, "Animal control, humane society, whoever can get here first."

"McGee, confirm that blood on the floor is feline."

With the cat out of the building and safely on its way to a local vet, the team had been on their way back to the Navy yard when they were called to a motor vehicle accident where a retired admiral had been severely injured. Gibbs had been told to go sort out what had happened, so he and his team had headed that way. Snarled traffic soon impeded their path and by the time they had arrived on the scene, flies, ants, bees and crows were already there. A semi trailer was on its side with its contents strewn across the road. Traffic looked to be backed up as far as anyone could see and police, fire department and emergency service vehicles were everywhere. Still quite a distance from the accident scene and unable to drive through the mass of vehicles, Gibbs calmly pulled the car over to the side, angled on the edge of an off ramp, and told his team they were going to walk.

He marched on ahead and had been speaking to the officer in charge when the other three finally got there. "McGee, get photos. DiNozzo, quick sketch." He thanked the officer and headed toward the semi with Ziva scurrying behind him.

"What about me, Gibbs?"

The air was thick with the smell of diesel and the blare of car horns assaulted his ears. Gibbs didn't want to be there and didn't know why he and his team had to be there. With bees circling his head, he stopped walking toward the pileup and turned to the Mossad liaison. "Metro is investigating this. What do we need to do, Ziva?"

She eyed the pileup. A sedan was visible under the cab and seven other vehicles had various damage.

"Perhaps," she started hesitantly. Gibbs waited while out of the corner of his eyes he watched McGee and DiNozzo pick their way around the mess on the road.

Ziva started again. "Perhaps, we should determine if a crime has been committed."

Smirking slightly, he asked, "Okay, how do we do that?"

Ziva glanced at the scene of crumpled vehicles, trashed cargo and accident personnel before replying, "I do not know."

Gibbs smiled with twinkling eyes. "Exactly," he announced and then added, "There is no evidence yet that this is anything but an accident. Go tell McGee and DiNozzo to hurry it up and let's get out of here. We'll get copies of everything from Metro." Finding the officer in charge over by the victims and witnesses, Gibbs asked him to send them copies of everything and then he headed back to the car. When he was far enough away from the man, he got on the phone and made a call.

In the car, DiNozzo and McGee were griping to themselves and to each other, and in the front seat, Ziva was quiet. She didn't know why they had left the scene without searching for evidence, but Gibbs reassured her that it would be fine.

Gibbs pulled the car into the hospital parking lot and told his team, "You're with me, Ziva." And then with not-so-disguised humor he added, "You two stay here."

Ziva tried not to laugh as her fellow team members stuttered around "what and why and but" and eventually shut up. Their soiled shoes had been put in the trunk of the car so if they had gone into the hospital it would have been in socks and that wasn't going to happen, at least not as long as Gibbs and Ziva had clean shoes. The accident scene had been littered with squished plastic bottles of honey, ketchup, mustard and salad dressing, torn bags of sugar, cornmeal and flour and broken jars of mayonnaise, salsa and jam. It hadn't taken long for the sticky mess to adhere to the soles of their shoes and cleaning it off wouldn't be an easy chore.

* * *

"We're still unable to establish contact with Odyssey or the Korolev."  
"They've missed their scheduled check-ins."  
"We'll keep trying."  
"It's not a problem on our end."

Later in the morning, Jack had arrived at the White House for a meeting with the President and Joint Chiefs, but instead of the oval office or a conference room, he had been quickly whisked down to the situation room where Landry's latest SGC communication had been routed. The head of Homeworld Security had already been in contact with the IOA, but he listened as Landry vented about the number of times the members had called telling him what he should be doing. Promising to get the civilian oversight group off the man's back, Jack had led the conversation about an Ori invasion and a calmed down Landry had joined in the discussion for a few minutes.

Jack and the others, with the exception of the President and the Secretary of Defense, had stayed near the situation room on the ground floor of the west wing. Landry had contacted them when he had something to tell, and even when he didn't.

"Nothing."  
"I've stopped taking the IOA's calls."  
"We're still trying to contact some of our allies."  
"Still nothing."  
"We sent a message to Bra'tac asking for information."  
"Not a peep. We'll keep trying."

Landry had kept Jack and the others informed as best he could, but he hadn't known much and what he did know had not been good news. They'd been unsuccessful in raising Odyssey. They'd been unsuccessful in re-establishing communication with the Korolev. No news was not good news. In the next couple of hours, Landry had sent more messages.

"The Russians are demanding answers. I've told them I don't have any."  
"Still no contact."  
"They've now missed two scheduled check-ins."

The IOA representatives had burned up the airwaves with their useless suggestions and demands, leaving Jack more ticked off at them than usual. He envied Colonel Chekov because he at least was out there doing something. When he had spoken to the Deputy Prime Minister, he had promised to let the man know about the Korolev as soon as he knew something, but the Russian Federation IOA member had not been pacified and continued to churn the waters between the two governments. Jack had finally gotten the DPM to call off his dog, but the US IOA dog would not be stopped and he had insisted on commandeering a Department of Defense Gulfstream and traveling to Colorado Springs. As a courtesy, Jack had warned Hank that he would be coming, but had known that Hank could handle the little weasel.

"Nothing. We'll keep trying."  
"Bra'tac was here."

Bra'tac had arrived at Stargate Command with news that lacked specifics, except that the Ori ships had laid waste to all in their path, and then he'd gone off to send vessels to the site of the battle, but Jack knew that the Jaffa Master would take a ship and go check out the situation himself. It's what he would have done. Over the next few hours, Hank called in every so often with a report.

"Thanks for getting the Russians off my back."  
"Nothing yet."  
"I'm wondering what happened to Bra'tac."  
"Still no communication with anyone."  
"I didn't hurt _Mr._Woolsey, but I wanted to."  
"Still nothing."  
"I'm sorry Jack."

Later in the afternoon, Gibbs and his team had responded to a dead body at a local gym, but Ducky had been pretty certain that it had been a heart attack that took the life of the 51 year old master sergeant. With paperwork to complete, the team had returned to the Navy Yard and upon arrival, Gibbs had been summoned to Director Jenny Shepard's office. As far as he knew, all the calls had been taken care of and there hadn't been any new ones, so he had no clue as to why she wanted to see him, but he left his team to write reports and climbed the stairs.

Cynthia didn't smile, she never smiled at Gibbs, as she indicated that it was okay for him to knock on the door. After a short pause he heard, "Come in, Jethro."

The meeting with the Director had been relatively short, and after going for a fresh cup of coffee, he had gathered his team to tell them what they would be doing that evening.

"I'll board the Bakir Kamir with customs agents."

Gibbs had explained about the NCIS agent undercover aboard the Turkish vessel and how they needed a way to get him off for debriefing without arousing the captain's or crew's suspicions. The ploy they would use would be to run a routine security check of all personnel, specifically their passports, and they would find something wrong with the agent's Filipino passport, an irregularity of some kind. Perhaps it would be counterfeit or something else, but whatever it was, it would be enough to haul him off the ship, under arrest.

His team had at first been a little ticked off that they would not be going aboard the ship, but Gibbs shut them down, explaining that too many people would make it look suspicious. It needed to look routine and three extra people, even one extra person would not be routine. McGee, Ziva and DiNozzo would stay in a car parked at the dock and wait for Gibbs to bring out the agent, Abog Galib. The ship wasn't expected to dock for a couple more hours, but Gibbs had everyone geared up and ready, telling them to get some rest and some dinner. It would be after dark when they left for the port to meet US Customs agents for the joint operation.

* * *

Jack stared at the dark screen, feeling and listening to his heart beating in his chest. His pulse thudded in his neck and if anyone had been looking directly at him they would have seen his eyes darken, making them appear almost black instead of brown. The video screen, not nearly as dark as his eyes, stared right back at him as he silently willed it to come to life with Hank's voice and image. Jack didn't hear the conversation on the other side of the room or notice the door to the corridor opening and then closing. The President had come back in, wondering about an update, along with the Secretary of Defense and John P. Jumper, former Air Force Chief of Staff, now retired and a White House adviser, and all three men seated themselves at the long table, with the President at the head.

Jack found himself wishing that he had been in Colorado Springs instead of Washington D.C. so that he could pop over to Stargate Command and at least wait for news with Hank. Jack suddenly realized that he was envious of Woolsey. Shaking that away, he thought about George Hammond and he had always been a good guy to wait with, because he always knew what to say and more importantly, what not to say. There was nothing Jack could do, he knew that, but at least he'd be closer to the situation.

In his office at the Pentagon he could at least throw something to vent some of his frustration. Jack had just been thinking about giving Hank a holler when the display blinked, and Hank's face and voice suddenly filled the main screen. He did not hesitate at all to deliver the information he finally knew and it started with, "Odyssey was damaged. Korolev was destroyed."

TBC

* * *

Thanks very much for reading. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who is reading this.

Chapter 2

* * *

"Odyssey was damaged. Korolev was destroyed."

Those somber words flitted around in Jack's brain as Hank went on to explain about Bra'tac taking a ship, about the loss of long range communications and about the Asgard ship and most of the Jaffa vessels being destroyed or damaged beyond repair. The next bit of sobering information had him focused on Hank's declaration. The Ori ships had traveled to Chulak. Jack knew that the Free Jaffa weren't about to be converted to Origin so there would have been another battle, but Landry hadn't heard yet what had happened. Promising information as fast as he received it, Hank had signed off, without wishing anyone a pleasant evening.

Odyssey would be limping home while the Korolev had not survived its maiden voyage. Jack's eyes drifted around the table and he saw that the President had come back. When had that happened? He ducked his head slightly and started with a verbal apology, but Hayes cut him off pretty quickly, insisting that he hadn't disrespected anybody. With the President's permission, Jack had then contacted the Deputy Prime Minister to deliver the news about the Korolev. He told him that there were only a few survivors and that they would have to wait for more information, probably until Odyssey made it back to Earth. The DPM had been livid beyond rational thinking, questioning why in Stargate programs Russian citizens had always perished and American citizens had survived. Jack couldn't dispute that, at least not completely because it was mostly true, so he didn't try to pacify or console.

He was every bit a diplomat when he told the man that he was sorry for their loss, that it was his loss too and that everything would be done to find out what had happened and survivors would be returning as soon as possible. He explained about the super gate still being active, that more ships would likely come through in a second wave and that they needed to continue construction of new ships as well as gathering of intelligence about their newest enemy. The DPM had accepted his explanations and acknowledged that Jack had a vested interest and therefore a measurable loss in all of the crews and SG teams. He said he sensed O'Neill's regret and sadness at the loss of life, appreciated his honest leadership, and kind words, and then he requested a summit in the very near future to discuss and investigate everything that had happened. It was owed to the families and the Russian people to unveil the truth, even though nobody would be told the truth.

Jack knew that Woolsey, being at Stargate Command, would already be aware of the few details of the battle, but he had called the contact number for the IOA anyway. As predicted, they were ready to jump in and on and over and through him. The loss of a 304 would be laid at his feet, as well as the loss of life. It would be his fault that the Ori formed a super gate, that they built ships and that they had come through to the Milky Way. The IOA had been great about assigning blame to one person, and Jack knew it would be that way for him and had accepted that they would do things like that when he had taken the job. It was his command and his responsibility. The charge against him, probably led by Woolsey and Camille Wray, would be formidable and they had already demanded a hearing to determine what had gone wrong in the battle with the Ori, and Jack knew that there would be lots of other meetings and conferences. Getting your ass kicked by an enemy is bad enough, but now he had to dread getting it kicked by the IOA. They could and would say anything they wanted or felt like, while Jack had to keep both military and diplomatic decorum.

A couple of minutes after returning the handset to its cradle, Jack was still sitting silently, mostly staring at the black screen, but also staring at the wall behind it. He hadn't heard the President speaking softly to the others or notice when he and a couple of others left the room, but pressure on his shoulder got his attention just before he heard General Mike Moseley's voice.

"Jack, you've done everything you can."

It was uncharacteristic for the four star to attempt to support or reassure someone in that way and Jack turned his head as the big hand was removed. He pulled himself out of the half slouch he'd unconsciously gotten into, a caster dragging on the carpet making the chair rock slightly.

The Air Force Chief of Staff sat down in the chair next to him and as Jack slowly spun his own chair to align with the table as his eyes flickered across the faces of the other men seated there. They were all looking at him and it dawned on him that President Hayes, the Secretary of Defense, the Army Chief of Staff and the Marine Corps Commandant were no longer in the room. He'd known he'd been unfocused, but how did he miss everyone standing when the President stood up or the four men leaving the room and then everyone sitting down again? Hadn't he spaced out just a little while ago? What else had happened while he'd been 'elsewhere'?

Aware of the others still looking his way, Jack stared hard at the table top, gathering his thoughts and emotions so he could stuff them into a box where they couldn't expose themselves, or him. Distracted? Sidetracked? Preoccupied? Oh yeah, he'd been lost in thought and he mentally smacked the back of his head for allowing his emotions to drive his actions. The people out there were his people, some were his friends, but he couldn't allow that to influence his thinking and ultimately his decisions.

It didn't take Jack long, he was after all, an expert, and he raised his head, directing his gaze into the serious faces around him, one at a time. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs gave him a half smile, Moseley nodded and Jumper looked as sympathetic as Jack had ever seen him, as did the Vice Chairman and the Chief of Naval operations. To Jack, their expressions confirmed that they were all feeling the same way and regretting that they, for the time being, were powerless to do anything about a situation beyond their reach. Jack's gaze, previously hard and steely, softened a little. These men, his superiors and friends, understood as well as anyone what he was feeling and what was going on in his head. He had done everything that he could, but that didn't really help and the men sitting with at the table with him, knew that.

* * *

Everyone except Jumper left for about twenty minutes and when they returned they had changed from service dress to mess dress uniform.

He remembered the President's dinner party, watching as Moseley played with his tie. A soft knock interrupted his musing and Jack was surprised, though he probably shouldn't have been, when one of his aides could be seen standing outside the door holding a garment bag and a zippered travel bag, which he recognized as his own.

* * *

Gibbs chomped down the last of his sandwich, chewing with purpose while his mind thought about the night mission. It could be easy to get Galib off the ship or it could go like some other ops he'd been involved in. Swirling his tongue over his teeth, he stood up, washed out his mouth with the last of the coffee and swallowed hard as he tossed the familiar Starbucks cup into the trash. Expecting his team to return to the squad room in a few minutes, he grabbed his kit from the bottom drawer of his desk and headed for the restroom in the basement.

It had been over 12 hours and he needed to look professional so Gibbs had quickly shaved, and then brushed his teeth. Swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth reminded him that he needed to call for a dental appointment since the sensitivity in the back molar of the right side wasn't getting any better. Grumbling that he would probably need a crown, he swiped his hand over his wet mouth, stored his personal items and headed for autopsy.

"Hey Duck."

Glancing at the man strolling into his domain, Doctor Donald Mallard, aka Ducky, smiled and put the folder he had in his hand onto the desk.

"Good evening, Jethro. I didn't realize you were still here."

Gibbs hadn't been surprised to see the medical examiner; after all, he often worked late.

"Yeah," he responded. "We'll be heading out soon."

"Ah," Ducky smiled. "Mr. Palmer and I will be here working late as well, at least for a couple more hours."

The cell phone in his pocket rang loudly and Gibbs pulled it out, looked at the display and smiled before answering in a deeper than normal tone. "Yes?"

He heard Jenny Shepard chuckle before she informed him that the Bakir Kamir was 15 miles out and Agent Cruz of the US Customs Service would be expecting him at the port as soon as possible. With a grin at Ducky, he tried a little small talk on her, asking about her dinner plans, but she dismissed him, saying that she needed to get going and so did he. Gibbs had to admit that she seemed rushed so he thanked her for the information and clicked off the phone.

The doctor, who had overheard both sides of the conversation, seemed amused and stated, "You won't get a rise out of her, Jethro. Her evening is much too important."

Gibbs stared at him, wondering what was so special about dinner on a weeknight, but before he could decide whether or not to ask, Ducky told him.

"She's been invited to dinner at the White House."

The expression on the agent's face told the whole story about his opinions regarding political socializing as Ducky finished with, "I'm surprised she hasn't left yet. I believe she said it was cocktails at 7." Ducky reached for another file. "Well no matter. I'm certain it will be a delightful evening. Have I ever told you that I almost had dinner at the White House?" He didn't wait for Gibbs to reply, just charged on with the story. "Oh, it was years ago and I had….."

Ducky kept talking and Gibbs went out the door to go fetch his team, who, if they knew what was good for them, had better be ready.

* * *

Jack knew that it was more trouble than anyone had said to add a chair to a table at a planned White House dinner, but mentioning it would not get him out of it. Get together events at the White House or anywhere else in Washington, DC were not his cup of tea and he'd rather be shocked unconscious by a zat than have to attend one. Unfortunately for him, the President had decided that he would attend this one.

"You won't miss any calls, Jack," Jumper assured him, taking his own garment bag from a White House aide. Jack had wanted to wait in the conference room adjacent to the situation room in case Hank called back with news. Or he could have returned to his Pentagon office, and maybe thrown something, but no, his CIC had another idea for the evening.

President and Mrs. Hayes were hosting a group for drinks and dinner and the men with Jack were expected to attend, along with the other Joint Chiefs. Believing a distraction would be good for his head of Homeworld Security, and knowing any message from Landry would be immediately relayed to them, Hayes had urged his senior officers to drag Jack along to the social gathering. It had been more of an order than a suggestion and the men had readily agreed to get him there. They had suggested skipping the before dinner socializing and Hayes had smiled at the compromise, knowing how much Jack would hate cocktail time. He had agreed and then gone off to the residence to dress for the occasion, which would be starting soon.

Jumper had been straightening his tie when he added, "C'mon, it'll be fun."

Jack barely nodded his acceptance of the first statement and couldn't bring himself to reply to the second one. Nothing at the White House had ever been fun, well except for bowling and he hadn't been invited nearly as often as he would like. And the theater was pretty cool too, especially watching from one of the front row armchairs that Hayes always insisted he occupy.

Jumper had left him to cleanup and a few minutes later Jack emerged from the men's lavatory, face washed and shaved, teeth brushed, hair combed, sort of, and in time to see Moseley standing outside the door. He couldn't help but smirk at the image of the Air Force Chief of Staff guarding a bathroom, and in the White House no less. Softly chuckling, he returned to the conference room next to the situation room and after taking a moment to wipe off his low quarters, he put on the blue satin bow tie and quickly double checked the studs on the front of his shirt and the cuff links on the sleeves. He adjusted his suspenders and cummerbund and reached for his mess jacket, giving it a fast once over before he slipped it on, needing to wriggle his shoulders a little to get it to hang the way it should.

It had been tailored to fit him, but he wore it so darn seldom that it never felt comfortable. He'd been lucky enough not to have to wear it since he'd been in DC and George Hammond hated to get dressed up as much as Jack and had not had any formal or semi-formal events for his retirement, which had suited Jack just fine. When Jack buttoned up his jacket he noticed the other men looking at him and he knew right away what they were gawking at. Damn, they hadn't ever seen some of his medals and Jack was suddenly feeling self conscious. He had permission not to wear all of his medals when in service dress, but that didn't extend to semi-formal or formal occasions when he had to wear mess dress, and because he was wearing miniature medals instead of ribbons, they were even more noticeable. In addition to the ones he displayed in service dress, Jack was decorated with the Air Force Cross, Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart and Prisoner of War Medal, and except for the POW medal, they all had at least one bronze oak leaf cluster. The solid black in the center of the POW medal ribbon always made it more noticeable as well as the eagle surrounded by barbed wire and bayonet points, and the others hung in groups on the top row which made then stand out.

Fending off an embarrassed look, Jack deflected attention away from his left chest by asking, "What?" And then quickly added "Sirs?" after it.

TBC

* * *

When Jack was SGC base commander, he had medals displayed in frames on his office wall. I think those were his medals. They were Air Force Cross, Distinguished Service Medal, Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Air Medal, Air Force Commendation Medal and National Defense Service Medal. We saw him in uniform several times and he wore the Air Medal, the Air Force Commendation Medal and the National Defense Service Medal. I added the Prisoner of War Medal and the multiples of the others. I always thought Jack didn't have the correct commendations and medals. Agree or not. It's okay. :)

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

I posted chapter 2 yesterday and then reread chapter 3. It didn't need too much cleaning up, at least I didn't think so, so I'm putting it out there too. I hope I didn't miss anything too terrible.  
Thanks for reading. Feedback would be appreciated, but reading is good.

Chapter 3

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Gibbs and his team were in the car, heading for the port. He'd been pleased to find them ready to go when he'd arrived upstairs. They appeared rested and everyone had eaten something. When he found out that the car had already been gassed up, he wasn't totally surprised, but it changed to suspicion when McGee handed him a cup of coffee. Ziva and Tony stayed quiet, waiting for Gibbs to jump on McGee, but he didn't.

"Good thinking, McGee. Let's go," he had announced while moving toward the elevator with his team scrambling to catch up.

* * *

The small group ushered Jack to the stairs where they were met by a White House aide, who informed them that security frowned on their arrival from inside the building. They could go around and enter through the north portico like most of the other guests or they could be escorted by an aide and a secret service agent. There had been no discussion because the Chairman stated that they had no problem being escorted and knowing the way, he marched ahead to lead them from the ground floor of the west wing to Cross Hall on the first floor of the residence. Jack just followed along with the group, his mind on what might be happening on the other side of the galaxy. Secret service agents along the way weren't exactly discreet in relaying the group's position as they walked through the White House, and it didn't take them long to get there because the general knew the best way.

As he marched up the back staircase from the ground floor to the first floor, Jack could hear classical music which got a little louder the closer they got to the landing. He recognized a trombone, a tuba, a French horn and at least one trumpet and knew the music had to be live, not recorded. Entering the vestibule, muted conversation was mixed with the lilting tune, and as he took a left past the elevator and another left into Cross Hall behind the others, Jack saw the people engaged in conversation that he had heard from the stairs. One couple was joking and laughing and another was arm in arm ahead of them.

A few steps later and the Entrance Hall came into view where many of the guests were mingling or standing in groups. Most of the men were wearing tuxedos, a few wore military uniforms and the women were dressed in evening gowns, very nice gowns he noticed. Butlers carrying trays were moving slowly around offering appetizers and drinks and everyone appeared to be having a good time. Jack recognized some of the men, but very few of the women as he and the generals kept walking.

The classical music selection ended and another began almost immediately, another Antonin Dvorak chamber composition, if Jack's hearing was accurate, and the men stayed near the outside wall of the hall as they headed toward a room at the end. They needed to go another 60 feet or so and as they walked past the double doors of the Red Room, Jack saw the source of the excellent music. At the edge of the Entrance Hall were five musicians, in Navy uniform, and two were playing trumpets. He hadn't heard the brass quintet perform before and found he was enjoying their selected piece. Ufortunately, standing right next to where they were seated was a dangerous quartet - Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, the Commanding General of the Multi-National Force in Iraq, the White House Press Secretary and the Speaker of the House of Representatives - and Jack noticed that they were all looking right back at him or at least at his own group. Of course they would be looking at his group. How often did anyone see the Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, a former Chief of Staff of the Air Force and the Chief of Naval Operations all together, sneaking down a hall... uh, walking through the White House? In the next second the people he hoped to avoid were looking like they were going to come forward in greeting and Jack groaned internally, clenching one of hands into a loose fist.

His promotion to brigadier general and General Hammond's promotion to lieutenant general hadn't been difficult to arrange because a lot of senior officer slots opened up when Anubis destroyed the Nimitz battle group, and in the military, promotions occur as vacancies open up in the commissioned officers ranks. The people lost were Navy personnel, but until more ships were built and put into commission, most of the command slots would remain unfilled. Jack's next promotion, from brigadier to major general and head of Homeworld Security, had raised more than a few eyebrows due to the secrecy of the Stargate Program, which made it even more mysterious. While most senior promotions require senate confirmation, the position of head of Homeworld Security had not and some people were more than a little curious and wanted to know all about it. Quite a few military officers and politicians had attempted to corner Jack on other occasions, hoping to learn more about what he was doing in the highly restricted, secure offices at the Pentagon. Jack could usually stay out of their way or beg off a conversation due to another meeting or something, but it seemed like it was getting harder and harder to avoid them. Hammond's advice had been to leave meetings as quickly as possible and avoid the Washington social scene, and that was just fine with Jack. Unfortunately, it was the opposite of what he was doing now.

Answering inane questions from persistent people was not something Jack needed right then, though he had gotten pretty good at delivering lies that sounded truthful and were loosely based on truth… sort of… kind of… okay, not really truthful at all. But he shouldn't have been worried about facing any of that because the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs waved them off and not too discreetly either, before Moseley and Jumper steered Jack down the hall and past the double doors of the Blue Room. At the end of the hall Jack could see the East Room with its doors wide open. It was full of big round covered tables set with china, silverware and glasses, and in front of each place setting was a little name card. Tasteful fresh floral centerpieces were in the center of each table and the chairs around the outside were positioned precisely. Two men with cameras were at the open doors setting up to take photographs, and they were suddenly very interested in the high profile officers walking their way.

Before they could point their cameras anywhere near the group, the last set of double doors on the right was opened and the trio moved quickly from the hall into the room. Following behind them was a butler, who was balancing a tray of tall fluted glasses, but after a quiet exchange with the Chairman, the door was closed and the men were left to their privacy. The others sat down, relaxing, as the Chairman got on his cell phone. Jack didn't sit, but he didn't stand still either. For the next few minutes he stalked slowly around the room, looking at everything and at nothing and he never noticed the butler coming back into the room.

Jack paced around the Green Room, its name indeed the dominant color of the walls and furnishings. He never heard the Air Force Chief of Staff implore him, "Relax Jack, Hank will call when he knows something."

Luckily, a historical information plaque had caught his attention and he had stopped wandering. The plaque stated that Mary Todd Lincoln had taken great pride in redecorating the Green Room in late1861 before her son's death in February 1862. Eleven year old William "Willie" had most likely died from typhoid fever. He had been embalmed in the Green Room and lay there in his coffin before his funeral in the East Room. Jack was certain he'd known about young Willie, but admitted most of what he knew about the Lincoln family, was about Abe.

An information sheet on the bureau stated that President Abraham Lincoln stood by the open coffin and had wept openly and was said to have been so heartbroken that he didn't generate any official correspondence for four days. His wife had been so distraught that she did not attend the boy's funeral, and avoided the room for the remainder of her time in the White House. She did not even come downstairs for her husband's funeral because the line for his wake wound through the Green Room. A parent's grief was something O'Neill could identify with and memories of Charlie, and Sara with Charlie bombarded him. His eyes roamed the room, seeing it as a 1860s funeral parlor rather than a newly redecorated modern-day reception room for informal meetings and conversation.

A hand on his shoulder shocked Jack back to the present and he turned to look into the face of his friend, Mike Moseley. "Hank will call, Jack." He nodded once to Mike and then followed him over to a sofa. On the coffee table was a tray with coffee and water and Jack reached for a glass while he waited for the dinner bell.

The other four men in the room had experience waiting and knew what Jack was feeling. At least they thought they did. All were experienced command officers and knew the dread of uncertainty when troops were deployed. They couldn't make that feeling go away. They wouldn't even attempt to try. The President had suggested dinner to distract Jack for a little while, but the four men knew it wouldn't matter. All of them were concerned about the Ori entering the galaxy, the fate of Odyssey, the loss of the Korolev and the probably battle on Chulak.

Jack heard a soft knock and looked over in time to see one of the double doors opening and a butler stepping up to announce that it was time to go to the East Room for dinner. Moseley and Jumper were up quickly, straightening their uniforms and heading for the door. Jack and the other two were a little bit slower, but did the same and got to the door in time to see the last of the other guests as they made their way past the door and down the hall. He followed behind Moseley, turned to the right and in only a few steps was at the door of the East Room. A butler directed him to a table where several people he recognized were already standing, including the Secretary of the Navy, the Secretary of Homeland Security and Lieutenant General Ann Dunwoody, who looked pretty good in her Army evening dress uniform. A man Jack recognized stepped from around her and he saw it was Dunwoody's husband, Craig Brotchie. Jack had not served with her, but he had with her husband, who was a retired Air Force Colonel.

Greetings and introductions followed as Jack met the wife of the SecNav and the husband of the SHS. Set for a party of eight, the table had been arranged boy-girl-boy-girl, but husbands and wives weren't next to each other. Somebody had played a game with the seating arrangement, maybe to get people to talk to others besides their own spouses and friends. Jack took his place, standing behind his chair and was pleasantly surprised to see the Director of NCIS step over. She was wearing a low-cut floor length gown with spaghetti straps and a scarf-like shawl. She carried a small clutch purse, the same color as her dress which was a beautiful deep cranberry red and very fetching against her fair skin. Everyone remained standing until the President and First Lady came into the room, where they greeted everyone and then headed for their table. Like everyone else, Jack waited and was shocked when the couple made a detour around a table to get to where he and the others were standing.

"Jack, I'm glad to see you here," the President greeted him, offering his hand.

Jack shook the man's hand with a small smile. "Thank you, Sir." Nodding to the First Lady he said, "Ma'am."

Mrs. Henry Hayes smiled and asked, "What have I told you about calling me Ma'am?"

Jack glanced toward the others at his table before answering. "Not to call you Ma'am, Ma'am?"

Hayes and his wife laughed out loud and several people listening in chuckled too.

The President announced a greeting to everyone in the large room, thanking them for showing up. And then said that the event was nothing more than having dinner with people he actually liked. He 'ordered' everyone to have a good time and he and his wife retraced their steps back toward their own table.

As soon as the President and First Lady were seated, everyone else sat down. Jack held the chair for the SHS and then waited for the other three women to be seated. His breath hitched a little when Jenny Shepard leaned forward just a bit to sit down and exposed just the right amount of cleavage. She had gracefully slid onto her chair which was held by Colonel Brotchie. and it placed her across and a little to the right from Jack. He smiled, thinking that dinner at the White House wasn't going to be so bad, and after all, he did need to eat something somewhere. Now if he could just discreetly move the centerpiece over just a tad, the view would be perfect.

* * *

Ziva jumped out from the back seat of the car and ran around to the driver's side, almost before Gibbs had exited the vehicle. Tony groaned and McGee grinned. Another car pulled up behind them, flashed the headlights once and then after a u-turn, stopped. Gibbs gave a 'behave yourselves' look to his team and walked to the other car, which had been driven by Agent Cruz to meet him.

After the US Customs car left, the three NCIS team members chatted for only a moment about being left behind before relaxing a little after McGee announced, "Gibbs goes in, they check passports, he gets Galib, they both come out."

Their car had been positioned across the water from the ship, which gave them a good view of the ship, anyone who happened to be on deck and the US Customs boats with their spotlights.

Ziva chuckled and said, "Yes, Easy. Galib is an agent. He will come willingly."

Not wanting to be left out, Tony jokingly questioned, "Yeah, What could go wrong?" Then he started talking about movies and leading ladies while he scanned the area. Looking through binoculars at three men on the deck of the ship, he quipped, "This is so _Usual Suspects_," referring to the 1995 movie.

TBC

* * *

I used this site, http:/www(dot)whitehousemuseum(dot) with all its fun drop down menus. Clicking on rooms is entertaining too.

Major General Ann E. Dunwoody was nominated for Lieutenant General in 2005. She was promoted to General in 2008 so I think in 2006, when this story takes place, she would have been a three star, like Jack.

Thanks for reading this chapter. Please review or send me a message, if you feel like it.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. I appreciate your interest and support. The editing of this chapter has been difficult and I ended up taking part of it out and adding a bit back in. Chapter 5 is coming along well and hopefully it won't be too long before I get time to wrap it up. I hope everyone is having a very good new year so far and thanks for reading my stories.

This chapter contains a spoiler for _Stargate SG-1_ season 2 episode "Secrets."

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Jack should have known the "Not to call you Ma'am, Ma'am?" line would come back to him and also that President Hayes had gone out of his way to warmly greet him and use his first name. The incredulous looks on the faces of his table mates told him that they were checking him out and sizing him up in more ways than one, and he felt his face flush a little in embarrassment. With the others scrutinizing him, Jack had used the opportunity to introduce himself hoping they would do the same and then the attention would be off of him and onto someone else. His job cover title had rolled off his tongue like the truth and none of the others raised an eyebrow about it. Generals in Washington, D.C. were plentiful and he was just one more desk jockey since even SecNav and Madam Secretary didn't know about the stargate, and knew very little about the Department of Homeworld Security. Director Shepard had given him an extra long look, her eyes locked on his, and for a moment or so he had wondered if Gibbs had ever mentioned him to her, but her face and body language revealed no recognition of him or his name.

The rest of the introductions moved quickly because SecNav knew the Secretary, the Secretary's husband and the Director. The Secretary knew SecNav, SecNav's wife and General Dunwoody and had met the Director, the General's husband and Jack. General Dunwoody knew the Secretary and her husband and had met Jack and the Director. And so on. To Jack it was just like every other introduction except there were more titles: Mr. Secretary, Madam Secretary, Director, General and Colonel. Spouses were usually more difficult because you had to remember last names, but after the introductions, Jack knew what to call the others: Mr. Secretary and Mary, Madam Secretary and Mike, Director or Director Shepard, Craig and Ann. At least spouses and some military didn't stand on their fancy titles and what would he call SecNav's wife or the Secretary's husband anyway? Glad for Mary, Mike, Ann and Craig and happy to be called Jack instead of General O'Neill, he settled in to casually observe the others.

Jenny Shepard's dress was quite nice, but he wasn't sure about her jewelry. The necklace and bracelet seemed to be flesh colored and while he didn't pretend to know much about coordinating accessories, he couldn't help wondering if there couldn't have been a better choice. Maybe she hadn't wanted to distract from the cranberry color of her gown, but Jack didn't see how that was possible with the thin straps and low cut front against her fair skin. She certainly was easy on the eyes and he could understand how Jethro had fallen for her. The other ladies, except the General who was in uniform, also wore nice gowns and Jack took a second to look at them and their jewelry. Madam Secretary wore a green gown with pearls both around her neck and her right wrist and Mary, dressed in dark blue had a gold necklace with small charms dangling from it and a stylish watch. He started to compare their earrings before mentally smacking his forehead while silently uttering "D'oh" and let his attention be drawn back by a server filling water glasses and to the small talk around him. It took only a few seconds for him to make some key observations. General Dunwoody was not being addressed by her first name, but that wasn't unusual. Most people would use her rank, especially since she was in uniform and those concerned about titles wouldn't miss the opportunity to call her General. She had asked everyone to use Ann and Jack would respect her wishes even though she out ranked him. The fact that a superior officer told him to use her first name was good enough for him.

Mary smiled a lot. She had beautiful teeth and full lips so Jack didn't mind, but he wondered what was on her mind. Mike kept glancing over at the President's table. Was he concerned about his wife's position in the cabinet? Was he hoping for a future story about the President or First Lady spilling their wine or doing something else embarrassing? Jack didn't know and he really didn't care, but he hoped the guy got a crick in his neck. SecNav was leering at all the women within his visual range. Many were attractive, but that didn't give the man the right to stare at their breasts and mouths. Jack took a sip a drink of water and noticed that Madam Secretary pursed her lips a lot. At first he thought it was when she was silent and possibly thinking, but she also did it after every time she spoke. Habit, Jack decided and it was kind of distracting. The Director seemed normal enough except she seemed to cringe a little every time she heard the word madam which of course was used before the title of secretary for the Secretary of Homeland Security, and Jack knew that there had to be a story there. Perhaps someone had called her Madam Director instead of Director or Ma'am and Jack could understand why she might be sensitive, given one of the connotations of the word madam. His attention moved to Craig and the two exchanged a meaningful look because the man was doing a little observing of his own.

There was only another minute of small talk before butlers and servers appeared following what must have been a preplanned signal and their paths took them from the doorway to every table like performers in a scripted show. Dinner tunes were provided by a different Navy group sitting at the far end of the room and this time it was a woodwind quintet, with flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and French horn, and the servers and butlers seemed to move around the tables in time to the rhythm of the music. All the water glasses were topped off and then wine was served, but before Jack could say "no thanks," a waiter was beside him with a round teapot, a matching mug filled with ice cubes and a small ice bucket. There wasn't any way that anyone in the White House kitchen could have known that he would like that so he knew that Moseley, the President or the First Lady had to have told them. He was glad that the tables had been set for eight people and not ten like he'd seen in photographs of White House dinners where the guests were elbow to elbow because the teapot and ice bucket needed the extra space on the table.

SecNav's wife had a glass of diet ginger ale and Brotchie and his wife stuck with water and lemon so Jack wasn't alone passing on the wine, though it wouldn't have mattered even if he had been. He liked most wines and enjoyed sampling regional selections, but he had never been one to give in to peer pressure and hadn't had a drink while in uniform in many years. The last noteworthy time had been when he, Hammond and Carter had been in D.C. for the medal ceremony and he'd escaped the scrutiny of Carter's father by excusing himself and heading to the nearest watering hole. A couple of times he'd been pushed into dinner or snacks at the Officer's Club and had enjoyed a beer, but only one. And the most memorable time before that had been at his and Sara's evening wedding reception. The champagne had been wonderful, but they'd both had so much that when they finally arrived at the hotel they had needed a nap and ended up sleeping through the night. They woke to find themselves snuggled together, completely comfortable, and their first time together had still been special, just delayed until the morning after they were actually married. For many reasons, that was a secret that they intended to take to their graves.

The drink servers had departed, but the people at the tables had only a few moments before the waiters were back with cobalt blue bowls filled with soup, green soup. There was no menu on the table and Jack wasn't fond of food surprises, especially green ones, and his brain flipped through the possibilities. The bowls were ceramic and not porcelain and that made him think that at least it was a hot soup. He thought of broccoli, celery, pea and asparagus, hoping that of those four it would be pea. Not his favorite, but much less unpleasant than the other three. It had been pureed so identification by sight was difficult and he glanced at the others who looked to be doing the same thing as their concentration was on the bowls in front of them. The aroma from the portions finally reached his nose and Jack knew he'd been wrong. The soup contained green chiles and sure enough, a moment later a server was at his side offering him grated cheese and small pieces of toasted flour tortilla to top it off. It was a delicious blended soup and Jack would have liked a larger portion or a second helping, but he knew that the meal would probably be several courses so he wouldn't be going home hungry. The other diners enjoyed it too with the conversation being about the different spices and ingredients, and whether or not the soup had been made with heavy cream. Knowing the habits President Hayes had been trying to keep, Jack guessed something lighter like skim milk or low fat yogurt had been added to the pureed mixture and he also guessed cumin, oregano and garlic, which earned him smiles and surprised looks from the women at the table. Thinking he might like to make a version at home, he put 'look for a Rick Bayless or Bobby Flay version' on his mental list of things to do or he could just ask someone to ask the White House chef.

The Navy quintet started another selection as Jack poured steaming hot tea over the ice in his mug and enjoyed several small sips. There wasn't anything in the world like the sensation of brewed tea going from too hot to sip, to very warm, to comfortably warm, to lukewarm, to cool, to cooler still and then to cold all in a few sips, while the mug in his hand also went from warm to cold. You couldn't take a sip when the tea was very warm and then wait because you'd miss the temperatures in-between and your tongue touching the ice while the hot tea entered your mouth excited the senses. Whoever told the kitchen staff had even told them to give him very strong tea and extra ice, and he looked forward to repeating the feeling and enjoying the taste of the tea and smelling the warm aroma each time he poured. Cold tea was refreshing and hot tea was comforting, but Jack's way was both and with much smaller cubes in the mug and no more tea, he added ice from the bucket and poured again.

The atmosphere in the East Room was light with the musical selections ranging from Mozart to show tunes and back to classical and Jack silently slapped himself on the back when he recognized the next selected piece. This time it was a Danzi concertino with solos for both clarinet and bassoon and Jack was enjoying the music though he couldn't see the musicians. He knew they were good though. His dining experience so far had been exquisite and he wasn't the least bit unhappy about being pushed into attending.

After the waiters departed the dinner conversation had mostly been about the entertaining orchestrated service and the soup, but Jack was happy to learn that nobody at his table knew ahead of time what they would be eating. A couple of people guessed it would be a five course meal which had started with the appetizers. Jack hadn't had any of those so he figured his meal would be four courses. President and Mrs. Hayes had invited people they like, so it made sense that they would have foods served that they liked and thought others would like. Jack hadn't been invited to begin with, but that didn't bother him at all. President Hayes knew that he didn't like 'occasions,' especially ones with stuffy people, political people or people he didn't like, which was most of the DC crowd that he had met and heard about. When Jack had visited for bowling or movies, he had been ordered to dress casually and that's what he'd done. He was used to bowling with the Hayes grandchildren, and watching movies with them and the President. General George Hammond had also attended when he was in DC, along with Mike Moseley and a few other fans of military war movies, especially old ones. He'd also watched a marathon of baseball movies like _Bull Durham, For Love of the Game, Field of Dreams, Pride of the Yankees, Eight Men Out_ and the original _Angels in the Outfield_.

Jack liked the holiday movie marathons that had a detailed list and schedule that was published ahead so a person could come and go depending on what they wanted to see. And he especially liked the privacy and anonymity of being in the White House, out of uniform, with no press around, very little WH staff and nobody caring or worrying about him being there. He didn't have much down time, but what he did have he liked to spend away from the people he had to deal with daily, except the President and Moseley, and George when he was around. The dinner in the East Room had been the exception to Jack's White House visits and he knew Hayes had invited him to distract him. And it had worked too because until right then, he hadn't thought about Odyssey, the Korolev, his people, the Ori or anybody or anything else. Good food and decent company had a way of doing that.

He listened to the others guessing about the possible entrée and salad options, which made him guess that the main course would probably come before the salad. He didn't care. In most American restaurants he'd been served salad before the entrée or in a few cases with it, but overseas, especially Europe, he'd had salad after the main course. Jack didn't care about the order of the courses; he'd frequently eaten dessert before anything else. The discussion turned to the possibility of a fish course to be served next and Jack voted with the majority against it. Fish would be fine, but he didn't want separate courses and they'd already been served soup so even he knew it wouldn't be any kind of lobster, shrimp or clam bisque or chowder. They could combine a fish dish with a salad, but Jack hoped they wouldn't do that either. Truth be told, he preferred ordinary meals, not fancy schmancy ones.

The conversation moved back to the main course possibilities and one person said fish and three said lamb and Jack hoped it wouldn't be lamb, and Homeland Security Secretary's husband said anything except rubber chicken would be good and both the SHS and Director Shepard laughed at that comment. Jack figured that in their jobs they probably had to attend a lot of dinners thrown by politicians, who were well known for serving rubber chicken while asking diners for money, and he was very glad that his position at Homeworld Security did not require that of him.

The musical quintet started another selection and Jack hid his smile when the folks at his table started humming and a couple started softly singing. John Denver songs had a way of doing that to everybody and during the chorus of _Take Me Home, Country Roads_, Jack hummed a little too. Next was _Annie's Song_ and several people at other tables were humming and singing loud enough for Jack to hear. Almost as soon as Jack put down his soup spoon, it, the empty bowl and the plate beneath it disappeared in a swirl of waiters, who took away all the other empty dishes too. During _Thank God I'm a Country Boy_, the conversation started up again and this time it was about John Denver and his music and he listened as the others talked about lyrics and differences in guitar, piano and woodwind arrangements.

Servers arrived with small pedestal bowls with small round scoops of a light pink icy yet creamy looking concoction and Jack knew that it was be some sort of sorbet to cleanse the diners' palates in preparation of the next course. He dipped the small spoon into the mixture and took a small amount, tentatively tasting it. The flavor was grapefruit and light mint but it wasn't too tart and the slight acidity removed any trace of green chile and spices from his mouth. It was delicious and it was gone in a flash. And just as fast, waiters were there to remove the small bowls and mini spoons.

The music continued and Jack stayed quiet until _Leaving On a Jet_ Plane when he had to jump in because everybody gave credit to Peter, Paul and Mary instead of John Denver. They talked about Denver's real name, where he was from and that his father having been an Air Force officer. The quintet closed out the John Denver selections with _Rocky Mountain High_ just as personnel arrived to remove glasses while servers provided clean ones, along with a new wine selection for the next course of the meal. In only another minute small bowls containing pickled beets and a medley of snap peas, baby carrots and fine beans were delivered to each person and cloth covered baskets of heavenly smelling breads and rolls were placed on the table. The quintet had moved back to classical music, but nobody was paying attention to anything except what they were being served for dinner.

In the next pass of servers, dinner plates were placed in front of each guest and Jack smiled when he saw surf and turf. A plate filled with lean beef slices, a not too large fish filet and a side of new potatoes covered with bacon crumbles would make anyone smile. Jack waited until everyone had been served before cutting a bite of meat. It seemed the others were waiting for someone to tell them what was on their plates and they were looking right at him as he chewed. Jack didn't need a second bite to know what it was he was eating.

"Bison," he announced to the others with a smile, while silently thanking the President.

The bison tenderloins had been marinated before being grilled to medium rare perfection, and then sliced diagonally. Jack didn't eat bison very often because of the cost. It might be lower in calories and fat, high in flavor and more available than in the past, but it was still quite expensive. The conversation was about food with mostly the men talking about Montana bison versus Kansas bison versus Pennsylvania bison versus Texas bison and so on, and how the different regions had different grasses to feed the free range American buffalo.

Jenny Shepard asked where they thought their dinner bison had come from and everyone looked at Jack like he should know but of course he didn't, at least not for certain. He could guess though since he knew that President Hayes liked the White House kitchen to use fresh ingredients and supplies and many were usually local or at least regional and he was certain that they weren't eating previously frozen meat.

It wasn't difficult to make an educated guess so he said "Virginia," and a server who had arrived at the table replied, "That's right, General." Jack couldn't help smiling as he looked at the man to verify that he wasn't just being polite and the guy volunteered a little about the bison ranch in Virginia and then told them that the fish had been flown in straight from the Keys. The filets had been painted with a mixture of rum and spices and then seared before being topped with fresh tomatillo salsa. The fish discussion came next with someone asking if a dolphin fish was the same as a Mahi-Mahi and why different regions had different names for essentially the same species. Jack listened, but he was so thoroughly enjoying his meal that it never occurred to him to open his mouth for anything except another bite. Plus he figured that he had participated quite enough in the conversations so far, much more than he normally would have.

Each bite of bison and fish seemed to melt in his mouth and the side dishes were wonderful too. He didn't love beets, but the ones he was eating tasted like none he'd ever had before. Most pickled beets had too much vinegar, but these had been prepared in a way that enhanced their naturally sweet flavor and complimented that sweetness without overpowering it, which was fine with Jack. The vegetable medley was satisfying and would have only been better with the addition of baby corn, but it was still too early in the year for fresh corn. The new potatoes would have been good without, but were perfect with the addition of bacon and had just the right amount of butter, garlic and fresh dill. The rolls were small and soft and Jack didn't see any butter or margarine on the table so he just took a bite of one. It had a honey center, not liquid but actually a part of the dough and he stopped short of vocalizing his pleasure. It was delicious and after finishing it off he reached for another but chose bread instead. The small loaves had been sliced and reminded Jack of the honey wheat Bushman bread served at Outback and as he took a bite, flavor exploded in his mouth and he realized the pumpernickel had been brushed with butter. Others at the table were enjoying the bread and rolls too and weren't holding back on their verbal appreciation, though Jenny and SecNav's wife both mentioned calories.

* * *

The ship had been overdue and Ziva, Tony and Tim had waited in the car quite a bit longer than they had expected. Suddenly the peacefulness of their location was disrupted by a loud bright explosion and they all looked toward the ship on the opposite side of the water, horrified to imagine that Gibbs was still on board. Quickly starting the car and putting it into gear, Ziva backed it up, peeled out and raced to get to the dock, but that was as far as they got. Stopped cold by agents who threatened to arrest them if they didn't follow instructions from the senior agent on site, the three team members paced and waited, aware that they should follow orders, but not wanting to. Eventually the senior agent informed them that they would only be allowed on the vessel when it had been secured and deemed safe, so needing to be doing something the three started verbally jumping on the guy about jurisdiction.

A couple of minutes later they stood silently next to the car and watched as the dock and surrounding areas flooded with personnel, fire and emergency vehicles and even a helicopter. Homeland Security, ATF, FBI and US Customs agents seemed to be everywhere, but all the NCIS agents cared about was getting onto the ship and finding Gibbs. They knew something had to have happened to him because neither he nor Agent Cruz had come off the ship and he was not answering his phone.

* * *

A butler came to the table asking for their salad dressing preferences, which was odd because they hadn't been asked about anything else they had been served. They were told that the greens would be tossed with a mild vinaigrette, and salt and pepper unless someone requested something different, but at Jack's table everyone said that would be fine. Another server came around offering wine refills and asking if anyone wanted something different to drink. The SecNav asked for coffee but Jack still had tea and water so he didn't care for anything else and he suddenly noticed that the small ice bucket had been refilled. After placing some ice cubes in his mug, he lifted the teapot and noticed it was heavier. They'd refilled it too. Wondering when the heck that had happened, he poured and then took several quick sips. It was every bit as good as the first time he'd done the same thing that evening and many years before.

The main course dishes were being removed when a server delivered fresh baskets of bread and rolls and Jack figured it was in case anyone wanted it with their salad. In only a moment a salad plate with a variety of tender and baby greens arrived with another server right behind offering the diners sunflower seeds, toasted croutons and fresh ground pepper from a grinder that must have been about 20 inches tall. Jack accepted sunflower seeds and pepper but passed on the croutons, instead wanting another honey roll. They were small by roll standards. Just as he took his first bite of salad a White House aide arrived at the President's table and after a very short conversation brought a folded note to the SecNav, who read it and quickly excused himself.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. I appreciate your support. This chapter was hard to edit but I think it's close to "good." :)  
NCIS and Stargate SG-1 have fictional characters but sometimes the episodes have real people tossed in. This story has real people mentioned and I have tried to be kind and show the proper respect.  
Thanks for reading. :)

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Chapter 5

By now people at every table had started whispering and gesturing, questioning what was going on and Jack saw Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice speaking to President Hayes. It seemed obvious that something had happened, but Jack like the others at the table knew that it could have been almost anything or nothing at all. He took another bite of salad, but before he finished chewing the aide had returned along with another one and then General Mike Moseley and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs also left the room along with several White House officials. At Jack's table the folks were voicing guesses about what could have happened, but he, Ann and Craig didn't join in. They knew better than to speculate. Not wanting to be left out and needing to know what had happened, the Secretary of Homeland Security whispered to her husband and then excused herself because if something had happened on US soil it was in her dominion. The Marine Commandant and Army Chief of Staff followed her out.

Jack looked around the room and observed many people checking their phones, pagers and PDAs. The devices had all been turned off or set to silent mode as required, but now the dinner guests had reactivated them and were looking for messages or other information to tell them what was going on. Jack didn't bother pulling his from his pocket because he wouldn't be one of the first to be notified anyway, and if something else had happened off world or at Stargate Command, he wouldn't be alerted in that way.

* * *

Under the moonlight the three team members stood on the dock and waited… and waited. Tony had told Ziva and McGee to be patient, that Gibbs was probably fine and to just wait a few minutes more before storming through the ring of security around the ship. The truth was that he had been more than ready to lead the way and force his way through, but he kept silently asking "What would Gibbs do?" He thought he knew the answer, but it didn't get him onto the ship. One wrong move and they could be barred from going aboard or even shut out of the coming investigation. Director Shepard had influence, but she wasn't a miracle worker. DiNozzo had called the night standby desk at NCIS and warned the agent who answered the phone that they might need at least one more team and possibly a medical examiner, but stopped short of suggesting that someone should notify Director Shepard. Tony didn't want to talk to her directly before he had more information. A strike against one of them was a strike against all of them and she would try to move heaven and Earth and get in at least one pissing match possibly before he even knew if something had actually happened to Gibbs. Truth be told he was torn between having her involved too soon and waiting, but channeling Gibbs, at least he thought he was channeling his boss, Tony checked the time and decided to give it five more minutes, knowing that he might have to take some heat.

After what seemed like a very long time, but was only about 10 minutes, a balding port security agent informed them that they could board the ship. Rushing to find Gibbs and not trusting anyone to tell them anything, they were stopped from running, but walked faster than they ever had. The senior Homeland Security man was on deck and they heard him tell a subordinate to bring up the ambulance and get a coroner.

"Wait on that," Tony yelled, moving quickly toward the men to get more information.

After a very brief conversation, Tony was rushing behind McGee and Ziva who were following an agent to the ship's laundry area. Stepping quickly through the corridors and around and over debris, the smell assaulted them first because above smoke, sweat, blood, gore and guts, the stench of charred human remains was unmistakable. They finally saw ground zero of the explosion ahead of them and found the area strewn with body parts, fluids and debris which was mostly smaller fragments, and a burned body.

If anyone had been looking at them at that very moment, they would have seen McGee look like he could vomit, DiNozzo swallow hard and Ziva's eyes darken in rage. At the outer edge of the destruction crumpled on the floor was an injured person with Agent Cruz of the US Customs Service crouched down next to him. The three team members stood frozen in time just outside the doorway, staring at the two men. Cruz's hand was on a shoulder and he was telling the man "Hang in there Gibbs." Leroy Jethro Gibbs was alive: injured but alive: injured was bad but alive was good. A couple of hastily thrown tarps provided a foot path from the door to the two men and another was on the floor next to them, but before Tony, Tim or Ziva could move, men carrying first aid kits pushed past them and rushed over. Agent Cruz was immediately up and out of the way as two more men barreled in hauling a stretcher. They worked fast determining Gibbs' condition, moved him to a backboard and got him secured, and team NCIS finally snapped out of their shock as the stretcher with Gibbs strapped on it left the room.

"You're gonna be alright boss." Not knowing if Gibbs was conscious, Tony was reassuring himself.

"Don't worry about a thing boss." Tim was worried and unsure of what to say to someone who was bloody and broken.

Ziva didn't speak. She just stared at Gibbs as the men carried the stretcher past and then brusquely told them to "Go. Hurry." She had seen blast injuries before and knew the consequences to a human body. Judging from the condition of the laundry room, it was most likely a miracle that Gibbs was alive. Would he survive? She couldn't know but many blast victims didn't.

Tony had turned to watch them carry the boss down the corridor when suddenly his gut clenched and he thought he heard Gibbs growl, "Shake it DiNozzo while you still have a job."

Snapping into senior field agent mode he stared at Agent Cruz saying, "We need to talk" and then ordered, "McGee, notify the standby desk. Tell them we need everybody. Call Ducky directly." Then in a softer tone he added, "He'll tell Abby." Tim nodded and turned away from the gruesomeness in the room. Tony barked, "Ziva, crew and scene containment." He didn't need to say anything more because they both knew what to do.

Director Shepard needed to be informed so NCIS could be primary and they needed more man-power. One of their own was dead, another badly injured: the crew needed to be accounted for, detained and questioned: the scene had to be secured: someone needed to lay out a grid and take photographs and measurements: evidence needed to be collected, processed and put into context. DiNozzo knew they needed more NCIS bodies on site and the Director could expedite it all. He wasn't powerless, but a few people at NCIS didn't take him seriously. He knew that they would take the Director seriously and do anything and everything she requested.

Tony shouted, "Get to work. I have to call the Director and make sure NCIS has jurisdiction." He didn't need to say anything more because they both knew what to do and then he grabbed the sleeve of the Custom's agent and pulled him down the corridor and out onto the deck. The men carting Gibbs were already off the ship and on the dock next to the emergency vehicles and an ambulance so he left Cruz and rushed up as one of the men was closing the ambulance bay door.

"Where are you taking him?" He hoped his voice didn't sound too anguished.

The man pulled on the door handle to make sure it had latched properly and pounded loudly on the metal door two times before responding, "Portsmouth Trauma," and the vehicle moved away.

DiNozzo went back aboard the ship and got the quick skinny from Cruz while looking around for Mr. Homeland Security. Spotting him talking to an ATF agent, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number to reach the Director in an emergency. It forwarded to Cynthia, the Director's assistant. He explained quickly and she told him that someone would call him back ASAP.

Tony approached the two men. "Why the wait to get them help?" His emotions had been all over the place in the last few minutes and for now he settled on anger. The search team had known Gibbs was hurt and they hadn't gotten him help for far too long. It was inexcusable.

"There could have been another bomb to take out first responders." Mr. Homeland Security was looking far too smug and DiNozzo wondered if they'd lost the battle for jurisdiction before truly stating their case.

* * *

The quintet played on, empty plates were efficiently removed, servers refilled water and wine glasses and waiters did their best to make sure everyone had everything they wanted and needed, but people weren't interested in eating or drinking anymore. Jack still had salad as did everyone else at the table, but nobody was eating.

The President's Chief of Staff and the White House Communications Director were the next to leave and both the volume and the tension in the East Room went up. An aide approached the President who stood up and in just a few seconds the room was quiet, but Hayes didn't say anything. Instead, looking troubled, he too headed for the door. With 25% of the guests at Jack's table now gone, and 50% of those left not speculating, it fell to Mike and Mary to conjecture about what the heck was going on. Jack kept only half an ear on their conversation and the rest of his attention on the people at the tables around him.

Jack heard a buzzing sound and Jenny Shepard reached for her purse containing the vibrating phone. He watched her look at the display and then stumble when she pushed back her chair to get up. Brotchie steadied the chair for her and with a thankful smile she draped her shawl around her shoulders and walked away from the table.

The SecNav, Army Chief of Staff and Marine Commandant came back in before she made it to the door and the SecNav turned around to go back out with her while the others returned to their tables. Many of the government officials, WH staff and others who had left were back at their tables and the room seemed to relax just a little. Surely if something major had occurred so many of the men and women would not be back so quickly, but the President, WH Chief of Staff, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Air Force Chief of Staff, Secretary of State, SecNav, Secretary of Homeland Security and Director Shepard were still absent so nobody was comfortable yet.

Jack was touching the outside of the teapot to see if it was still warm when an aide arrived with a note for him. Opening it so nobody else would see, he frowned, wondering what the Air Force Chief of Staff could want and then his gut clenched when he remembered Odyssey, the super gate and the battle with the Ori. Yikes, dinner at the White House had been lousy for his focus and concentration, and great for helping him forget the job stress and to relax a little. Now feeling guilty, he hoped for good news about the situation on the other side of the galaxy. With a shrug Jack excused himself and left the shrinking group.

Just outside the door SecNav was talking on his cell phone and at the end of the hall near the door to the Red Room he could see the Secretary of Homeland Security, Director Jenny Shepard and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice in a discussion. All were strong women, but the Director appeared stricken and a little shaky with the other two offering support. Whatever had happened was affecting her more than the others. He walked the few steps to the door of the Green Room rather quickly, not wanting to be caught looking at them and not wanting them to see him. And in doing so he didn't notice that there were quite a few extra secret service guys up and down the hall and standing right outside the Green Room door.

His knock was followed by a quick "Come in" and he entered to find the Air Force Chief of Staff waiting for him.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal." The apology did not come from Mike Moseley.

Recognizing the voice Jack responded, "Not a problem, Mr. President," and turned to his right to see President Hayes with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The two men were sitting in chairs at the side of the room but Jack didn't approach them. Instead he looked to Moseley just as there was another knock at the door and more people arrived: the Secretary of Defense, the White House Chief of Staff, the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the Chief of Naval Operations. He was about to find out what had happened.

With five men sitting and Jack, the Chairman and Moseley standing, Hayes nodded to Moseley who started right in. "Jack, there's been an explosion on a Turkish ship." He went on to quickly explain that an agent had been killed in the explosion and another injured who might have valuable information and they needed him to stay alive. It had only taken a few seconds of explanation for Jack to realize that the CIA, FBI, NSA, Homeland Security, US Customs, NCIS, ATF and every other alphabet agency considered that what had happened was and could still be a threat to national security.

"This just happened and it wasn't an American vessel, but the targets were Americans. We have to assume that more attacks are planned. We have to assume that more personnel will be targeted."

Jack immediately thought about the Marine barracks in Beirut, the USS Cole, and various embassy bombings, and of course 9-11. If whoever it was targeted a ship or a port it would be very bad.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs spoke up. "Mr. President, if I may?" Henry Hayes nodded.

"Jack, we need intel and right now it's on the Turkish vessel and with the injured man. He's being taken to the Naval Medical Center at Portsmouth, and we want you to intervene."

Jack stared at the Chairman, not believing what he had just heard. There was no deception, no joke. The man had been serious. Jack looked at the President and saw the truth in his eyes. They wanted Jack to do something, anything to save the injured man. Portsmouth was a level one trauma center so the man would be in good hands, but blast injuries could be wickedly fatal rather quickly.

The President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Air Force Chief of Staff and the Chief of Naval Operations knew all about the Stargate, the program and Jack's role in it over the years. The Vice Chairman knew about the Stargate but had not been read in on details, day to day operations, missions, personnel or anything else. The Secretary of Defense and WH Chief of Staff didn't know anything at all. Previous Secretaries had been involved and even visited Stargate Command, but this new guy hadn't been told yet. In fact, Jack knew about a disclosure meeting that had been scheduled so he was positive the man didn't know. The WH Chief of Staff was also pretty new having replaced the first one just a month before. That guy hadn't known everything but had been read in on a lot of it because of Anubis.

Jack looked right at the President and simply asked, "Mr. President?" Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. Tell me this isn't some kind of a joke. Tell me what you are really asking me to do. Two people here know nothing about the program. One person doesn't know very much. A couple of you don't know everything, in fact none of you know everything. Even you Mr. President. That and much more was expressed in his short question.

Hayes understood exactly what Jack was asking. "Jack, we need the agent alive." His eyes softened a little when he said, "We need to know what resources you have." Hayes was admitting to not knowing all that Jack knew.

Looking at the two men who didn't know anything about the Stargate, he couldn't help wondering what they were thinking. Neither man had spoken. Neither man looked confused. Why weren't they asking what resources he could possibly have that all the powerful men in the room didn't have? Hayes was serious. Moseley and the Chairman had been serious. This was not some kind of a test.

"Mr. President, Sirs, no offense, but not everyone here has been read in." He should have asked for permission to speak freely, but he hadn't ever been keen on the regs and protocol, and Hayes had told him that he valued him for lots of reasons, a main one being that he could trust him to tell him the truth. His eyes must have conveyed his confusion about disclosure because Hayes jumped in to reassure him.

"It's alright. The Secretary and my Chief of Staff are here as a courtesy because of the possibly evolving situation. They were and are still scheduled for the planned disclosure meeting. And it's past time for the Vice Chairman to know more."

Hayes looked at each man individually before continuing. "Jack, can we get someone to the hospital to use a healing device?"

The Secretary's eyes opened wide in surprise but he didn't say anything. The WH Chief of Staff just stared in disbelief. The Chief of Naval Operations frowned. Rocking his weight foot to foot but not enough to draw attention, Jack looked at the small sculpture on the side table while his brain processed what Hayes had asked him. The man wanted him to find a way to use alien technology to heal a man injured in an explosion on a foreign vessel that had been docked at a US port. Okay. The healing device was in Colorado and Carter was with Odyssey… somewhere. Vala was who knows where and Cassie, well, they hadn't ever tested her for any ability for lots of reasons and she was away at school. He had naquada in his blood, but not enough to operate Goa'uld devices. In fact, all SGC personnel who had been off world on naquada rich worlds had varying amounts of the metal/mineral in their bodies. He pushed back all thoughts about SGC people and what was going on across the galaxy. He couldn't do anything about any of that right now, couldn't help any SGC personnel, but he could do something about an injured agent and maybe prevent something bad from happening on Earth.

Nobody to use a healing device. Check. Allies. He could have Landry try to contact someone through the gate, but it would probably take too long. And who would he get? The Tok'ra were MIA, the Nox rarely answered their phone and the Asgard… wait… the Asgard.

Only a few seconds had passed when he replied, "No, Mr. President, everyone who can operate a healing device is… uh… unavailable." The men who knew what he was talking about looked disappointed, but Jack wasn't finished yet because he had another idea.

"However, one of our allies has been at area 51 helping with...uh." Jack hesitated. Most of these men knew about the program, but it didn't mean they knew details, especially about ships. "Portsmouth you say?" The Chief of Naval Operations nodded and Jack continued. "Sir, I think I can get a friend with an upgraded ride to help."

Hayes smiled. "Save him if you can Jack, but be careful. You know what I mean."

He knew he needed to be more than discreet and wished for an invisibility device. He'd have to find the man, wait for him to be alone and then have him beamed up. It would not be easy. "I'll do my best, Sir."

"Gentlemen, General O'Neill needs to make a call."

Jack reached into his pocket and touched the small stone which had been created and keyed for his DNA. Holding it in his palm he asked, "What's the agent's name?"

The Chief of Naval Operations said, "NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," just before the Asgard beam took Jack away.

TBC

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I hope you liked this chapter more than the last one. Please review. Please. Pretty please?


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again. Finally another chapter. Sorry you had to wait. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate your comments very much and look forward to more. :)

A couple of readers have expressed some concern that I deviated from the story in the episode "Hiatus part 1." Those writing to me are correct. I did change a couple of things but nothing too major… I didn't think. The bomb scene is a little different I guess since in the show the dead body was blown upward into the overhead. Not sure about pieces falling down etc. And in the show McGee hadn't seen the room yet or least not gone in but I didn't have any of them go in until after Gibbs was out of there. It starts raining on the show and I wrote about moonlight, but it's 190 miles from DC to Norfolk so that's about 3+ hours driving time for Ducky to get there and in that time clouds can form and it can get rainy. I'm sorry if I offended anybody with my changes. I didn't think about it mattering since it's just a story – a fictional story. There may be other things - in fact I'm positive there are other things. Please yell at me if you want or need to.

* * *

Previously in Chapter 5 -  
"Gentlemen, General O'Neill needs to make a call."  
Jack reached into his pocket and touched the small stone which had been created and keyed for his DNA. Holding it in his palm he asked, "What's the agent's name?"  
The Chief of Naval Operations said, "NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," just before the Asgard beam took Jack away.

* * *

**And now Chapter 6.**

Jack was absolutely certain the Admiral had said NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs but just as the name registered in his brain his body tingled and the Green Room dissolved into a flash of white. With the shock of the name the brightness of the beam faded allowing Jack to immediately get his bearings. He was aboard an Asgard scout ship and he could see an Asgard standing at the ship's console. Believing he knew who should be piloting the ship and thinking he recognized the little guy even though sometimes it wasn't easy, he went with "Penegal?"

"Yes, General O'Neill. How may I assist you?" The alien's eyes blinked slowly as he tilted his odd shaped head to look at his visitor.

Not known for beating around the bush, Jack told him, "Sorry to take you away from whatever you were doing."

Not letting Jack finish and thinking that the man wanted something that he could not provide, Penegal announced, "I explained to General Landry that this ship does not possess long range communication and is not capable of hyperpsace travel."

"Yeah… yeah I know," Jack admitted, opening his uniform dress coat. He knew the small scout ship had been brought to Earth after the war with the Replicators and remained in orbit to be used by the Asgard. "If you could have you would have already tried to contact the missing vessels or the Asgard home world." Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck he added, "Or gone out there yourself."

Penegal's expression seemed to soften when he realized that Thor's favorite human understood and accepted his ship's limitations. While Asgard didn't often express emotion, at least not in a way other species understood, they did care about others and worried about their safety. He watched O'Neill, staying quiet and waiting for him to speak again. The man had always been interesting. He could stay quiet and subdued or be animated and passionate and sometimes so venomously vocal that his words could make an Asgard's ears bleed. Despite that Penegal liked the human being called O'Neill.

Jack turned and walked the few steps to the observation window, staring out at Earth. The view was just as beautiful as it had been the first time Thor had transported him. Thinking about Gibbs didn't keep him from staring at the beautiful planet he called home and he mentally traced the outlines of the different continents and imagined seeing blue whales frolicking in the open ocean. Boats and ships were on that same ocean and his brain rushed back to Jethro. Explosions were gruesome and messy and Jack forced himself to shake off the worry about his friend. The fact that the man had survived long enough to be transported to a hospital was a positive sign though nothing was ever certain and of course survival didn't mean anything toward recovery. Jack concentrated on the clouds he could see forming from New York all the way south into what looked to be the Carolinas and he wondered if weather forecasters had predicted rain in Portsmouth. His mind quickly cataloged what he would need to accomplish and the ways open to him to get it done and with one last long look at Earth he shrugged off the awe and turned from the window telling Penegal, "I need a couple of things."

* * *

Those that had seen Asgard transports in action hadn't been concerned about Jack disappearing. Those that knew about Asgard transports had been a little surprised but pleased to be able to have actually witnessed it. Those that knew about the stargate but hadn't known about the Asgard or beaming technology had been shocked and those that hadn't known anything at all had been stunned.

The WH Chief of Staff just stared while the SecDef exclaimed, "What the...?"

Ignoring the outburst the Vice-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs declared, "He looked surprised, Mr. President. I would have thought he'd been transported before."

"He has, probably more than anyone." Probably not a completely accurate statement, but Jack had been transported by the Asgard... a lot.

The CJCS clarified by announcing, "The name surprised him: he knows Agent Gibbs."

Seconds of silence ticked by as that statement sunk in for those who didn't know about Jack and Jethro's friendship until the CNO asked, "How well does he know him?"

"From way back," the CJCS revealed, leaving out anything about them being close friends.

The WH Chief of Staff recovered from his shock but was still glancing around the room when he tentatively asked, "Where is General O'Neill?"

President Hayes chuckled softly. "He's gone to ask a friend for a favor." He hadn't answered the question, not really. He didn't have to.

* * *

Dressed casually in Dockers and a shirt, Jack pulled a jacket from a hanger in the entry closet in his home. He wanted to be prepared in case it started raining because he wouldn't want to look out of place at the hospital. He'd quickly brushed his teeth and dressed debating what else he needed as long as he was there and then started to reach for the stone, but stopped to retrieve his dress uniform and shoes. The garment bag was still at the White House but he had a hanger so he grabbed that and everything he had taken off including his shoes and then picked up the communication device.

During Jack's absence Penegal had heard from General Landry at Stargate Command and had positioned the vessel above Portsmouth, Virginia. Asgard didn't usually care about longitude and latitude but when looking for an Earth location it came in handy and in this case he had needed help to find the hospital and Landry had provided that information. The SGC commander hadn't asked a single question after Penegal told him Jack O'Neill required the information.

Back aboard Jack quickly explained to Penegal about the explosion and how Gibbs would probably have head and internal injuries.

"You can't heal him completely." Jack explained what needed to be done.

"Your friend may require extended time in the healing pod if his injuries are severe," Penegal explained. "You will first need to bring me his bio readings." He handed Jack a small flat white strip which looked very much like a Band-Aid except it didn't have adhesive and Jack must have looked confused because Penegal added, "Place it on your friend's body against bare skin preferably near or on his chest where his heart should be located."

"I just hold it there?" He didn't wait for a reply before asking a second question. "For how long?"

Penegal moved white stones around on the transport control pad and clarified by saying, "Just a few seconds. Keep the communication stone in your opposite hand and I will retrieve you."

Jack debated whether to walk in the front door or be transported into the hospital and decided he didn't want to mess with security. The front desk wouldn't let just anyone in the door and they would check his ID card and he'd probably have to put his name on a sign-in sheet. He also didn't want to appear on any security footage.

"Can you scan the main hospital and find a place without other people?"

"I can." Penegal touched a stone and on the screen a map of the hospital appeared showing tiny dots. "These are human heat signatures." Many areas had many dots indicating lots of people. " I believe an elevator or lavatory would be best."

"The place has security cameras. I don't suppose you could disrupt any of them?"

The Asgard didn't reply right away as he seemed to be thinking. Jack didn't pressure him knowing that Penegal would tell him something soon enough.

In only a few seconds he announced, "Not without disrupting power to the entire facility... or possibly an entire section."

"No, better not do that," Jack quickly told him, still wondering if he should just go in the front door.

Penegal revealed, "These are locations emitting signals comparable to those at your Stargate Command, Area 51 and government buildings. I believe them to be video and audio monitoring devices."

On the screen were green dots and there weren't as many as Jack might have expected. He looked at his watch and noted that it had been just over 10 minutes since he'd left the White House. From the dock to Portsmouth wasn't very far and he knew an ambulance would make the trip very quickly. ER assessments took time but doctors wouldn't hesitate to send Gibbs for needed tests: an X-ray or a CT or something. Thinking about medical imaging equipment used to diagnose injuries, Jack asked Penegal, "Can you scan for radiation? Some of the medical equipment emits radiation during its operation and the department where I think I'll find my friend should have several radiation sources."

Again the little Asgard worked at the screen. "Yes. This area" and he placed his bony appendage to the screen, "has many sources of radiation. It is not from expected natural sources and is quite hazardous for humans."

"Yeah, that's a discussion for another time," Jack mumbled. He leaned over and examined the screen, looking at the area and the locations of monitoring devices and decided a restroom would be a good place for Penegal to put him. What looked like two side by side lavatories were between a room without machines and a larger room. Thinking they had to be restrooms for patients visiting the x-ray department he wondered if Asgard technology could distinguish between a men's and women's. He sure didn't need to be arrested for being in the wrong bathroom.

Pointing to the restrooms he inquired, "Don't suppose you can tell the difference between these two?"

Penegal examined the readings on the screen and replied, "I do not know. Both contain a water source." He pushed a button and added, "This one, on the right, does have more interior compartments."

Thinking the little guy was talking about stalls and women's lavatories typically have more stalls because men's rooms have urinals, Jack decided it was a good analogy and worth the risk.

"That's good. Put me in the one without as many compartments."

He watched Penegal first move a stone and then rotate it, and following a bright light he found himself in a surgical scrub room adjacent to an operating room. Oops.

* * *

Her driver was making good time while at the same time being careful not to get a ticket and was keeping the car in the traffic flow, only changing lanes when passing a slower moving vehicle. Director Jenny Shepard was still getting used to her new driver and had caught herself several times almost addressing him as Stan. Special agent Stanley Hobart had been more than a driver, he'd been a friend. Trying not to think about how he'd been murdered and left in the trunk of the agency car while she'd been taken hostage, the Director briefly closed her eyes and tried to think hopeful thoughts about Jethro because she not only didn't want to attend his funeral, she sure didn't want to have to go so soon after Stan's.

Trying not to worry she leaned back stiffly into the seat and gazed out the side window watching the car headlights go past in the opposite direction. The glass of wine before dinner and the course pairings had been excellent and Jenny had had more wine to drink that she would have had she known she'd be going anywhere except home afterward. Between the warm interior, the mesmerizing lights and the gentle rocking motion of the car, she set aside the fears about Jethro and found herself relaxing.

The evening at the White house had been fun. She'd arrived midway through cocktails so she had time to socialize, but not enough time to get bored. Mingling while sipping good wine and munching on appetizers she had recognized most of the guests and knew many of them. There had been a few surprises, nothing too earth shattering, but she had been happily surprised when they were all seated for dinner. The guests at her table were a welcome change from previous dinners: not all of them of course but three specifically and all were military. She'd been certain that the two generals and retired colonel hadn't been there for cocktails because there was no way she would have missed them. Military officers were not usually her favorite people to deal with for many reasons, but her table mates turned out to be witty and knowledgeable in addition to being very good looking and they were not arrogant in any way. Another pleasant surprised compared to politicians and other agency folks. In addition to the extremely pleasant dinner conversation, the music had been divine and the food fabulous and she'd been glad that she had eaten a light lunch because she hadn't wanted to pass up anything being served. Feeling comfortably full she remembered that she hadn't finished her salad and never got a crack at dessert and for a minute or so wondered what they would be serving.

She'd left the White House as soon as her driver had arrived and it had only taken a couple of minutes for her to make some calls: one to NCIS Norfolk, another to authorize the mobilization of an additional team from the Navy Yard and a third to the ME, Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard. He and his assistant were traveling in the same direction on the same highway and they hadn't talked long though the doctor would have liked it if they had. The medical examiner had expressed concern for Gibbs but also for the NCIS forensic expert, Abby Sciuto.. He'd left with her pacing around and talking to herself. It would be many hours before she had any evidence to process in her lab and he knew she would not be a happy camper waiting and wondering about Gibbs.

* * *

Abby couldn't stay at NCIS by herself. She wasn't totally by herself because there were still a few personnel there, but Ducky, Palmer and a secondary team were on their way to the ship and Ziva, McGee and Tony were already there. Her mind raced as she threw herself into the backseat of the taxicab, intending to get a flight to Norfolk. On top of her anguish about Gibbs being in a bomb blast, her hearse had a flat tire and she'd silently cursed whatever forces seemed to be conspiring to delay her departure. Just before the cabbie got to the on ramp for the road to the airport, Abby told him to head to Portsmouth instead. It would take too much time to get there and then get a flight and then go through security, especially since she'd be flying without any luggage and subjected to extra scrutiny. And then she would fly to Norfolk and take a cab to the hospital. It just didn't make any sense when she could just take a cab the whole way.

"I don't have enough cash to pay you," she confessed to the driver. Trying to sound sympathetic she pleaded, "Will you take me to Norfolk anyway?"

The driver hesitated only a second before he asked, "You admit you cannot pay me?"

Abby expected the vehicle to slow down any second. "I have a credit card. Or if you won't take that can we stop at an ATM?"

The driver nodded, accepting her method of payment and she felt the cab accelerate. She had known from his voice that McGee didn't have good news, but she hadn't anticipated what he had to tell her when he had called. Oh he'd tried to sound upbeat and positive. He'd explained that Gibbs couldn't be too badly hurt because he's Gibbs, but Abby knew he was only masking his own fear. Ducky had walked into her lab while she was on the phone with McGee and she had known from the look on his face that what had happened to Gibbs could indeed be very serious. After Ducky and Palmer left for Norfolk she had debated what to do. There wasn't even anybody to talk to about any of it, not even the Director. And that was when she'd made the decision to go there and see Gibbs for herself. It would be hours and hours before she would be needed in the lab and if Gibbs was seriously injured then she wanted to be there. No, she needed to be there. Gibbs was her friend. He was like a father to her, even though she had a Dad. Gibbs was her work Dad. He was her personal life Dad. He couldn't be seriously hurt, he just couldn't. She wouldn't allow it. She wouldn't stand for it. In her heart Gibbs was indestructible, but in her mind she knew he was as human as everyone else. And she was afraid.

TBC

* * *

**Notes**: just a few items of explanation and things I thought about while writing.

1. The last time I remember seeing or hearing about Penegal was in the season 8 episode "New Order" and though he is a member of the Asgard High Council, I decided it's possible for him to be visiting Earth to assist in ship building. I don't know what he's been doing between New Order and now but I wrote him into this story.

2. Director Shepard's driver, Agent Stanley Hobart, was murdered by Alex Rudd and James Dempsey in the season 3 episode "Jeopardy" which aired on May 2, 2006, a week before "Hiatus (part 1)."

3. I looked for information about the hospital. I found out that the radiology department is located in building 2 on the 1st floor and a main operating room is located in building 2 on the 3rd floor. I have no idea if the OR is located two floors directly above radiology but it is for this story.

4. Don't know how much cab fare was in 2006. I used an internet fare finder for a trip from the Navy Yard to Norfolk, VA which is about 195 miles with an estimated travel time of 3 hours and 29 minutes and it came out to $398.20. ($3.00 initial fare, $342.39 additional metered fare, emergency fuel charge of $1.00 and 15% tip of $51.81)

* * *

Thank you very much for reading. This chapter has been read and reread so many times and changed so many times that I fiinally decided to just go for it. Please let me know what you think about it. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to everyone who has stayed with this story. Between rl and ff site problems this chapter almost didn't get posted. :)

Previously in chapter 6 -  
Jack watched Penegal first move a stone and then rotate it, and following a bright light he found himself in a surgical scrub room adjacent to an operating room. Oops.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The surgical scrub room, with its odd smell and glistening surfaces, had been almost empty and Jack managed to get out without anyone seeing him. Most of the staff, visible through viewing glass, had been busy in the operating room and he'd seen only one person close by, a tall guy in blue scrubs, who had been doing something over a large sink with his back turned away from the door. The guy had been completely engrossed in his task because he hadn't even noticed the flash of light when the beam deposited Jack into the room.

On the way out Jack had seen different colored scrub pants and tops folded on a high shelf behind a clear door, but decided not to play dress-up, at least not yet. He didn't have a hospital photo ID to display and he wasn't wearing shoes that could pass for hospital staff so he would only consider it if everything else failed. It sure wasn't that he couldn't play the part of a doctor or corpsman or medic or nurse or even of a technician of some kind because he'd spent enough time in infirmaries, hospitals, med tents and clinics over the years that he was certain he could pull it off.

Only one person had been in the corridor down from a family area where a few people were waiting for word while reading magazines or pacing. Three vending machines lined the wall on one side along with a trash barrel overflowing with discarded cups and snack wrappers. Pretending to be lost, Jack had asked a woman for directions to get to the radiology department. She had seemed a little surprised by the question, probably because most guys don't admit to being turned around or heaven forbid, lost, but with Juicy Fruit breath and a nice smile she told him she thought it was located on the first floor and after thanking her he had headed down the hall, happy to see a sign directing him to the bank of elevators.

Standing in the area outside the elevator doors on the first floor, Jack saw the signs indicating the available services - X-Ray, CT Scan, MRI, Ultrasound, Fluoroscopy, Mammography, PET/CT Scan, GI Studies, Bone Density test, Angiography, Nuclear Medicine, Radiation Oncology – and the arrows pointing which way to go. He heard a ding as another elevator arrived and he stepped closer to the other side away from the opening doors as a man with a cane half stumbled out. He stopped to read the signs just as Jack had been doing before grumbling and walking slowly to the right, the cane tip squeaking on the smooth tile. X-Ray, CT and MRI were all down the hall to the left so that's the way Jack headed. He'd had enough experience with injuries to know that if Jethro was not still in the emergency department then he'd most likely have to be getting one of those tests, probably a CT... for starters.

He walked down two wide hallways passing by several unmarked doors, a couple with authorized personnel only signs, and a large elevator before turning a corner where he saw swinging double doors and a big sign for Radiology. He slowly pushed the door open, going only a little way until he could see the reception desk with its one employee hunched behind a desktop computer monitor. Peering to the sides, he could see a rather large waiting room with lots of seating and tables with baskets of magazines, but only two people, which made sense considering the late hour. On two sides of the waiting room there were several doorways that patients and personnel could use and Jack ducked back out into the corridor carefully closing the door before anyone noticed him.

The main reception area would not be where ER patients were taken so he headed back to the closed doors that he had passed knowing that there was another way into the department. Halfway down the hall a door opened and out came two men with a gurney: one was pushing and the other looked to be navigating. Jack watched as they disappeared into the large elevator and he wondered how he was going to move around to find Gibbs without drawing unwanted attention. He checked the hallways for other people, especially hospital staff, and then headed for the authorized personnel only doors to see if they were all locked, and of course they were.

Being at the hospital in the evening had been working in his favor, so far, but even with few patients and staff in the hallways he wondered how long he could move around without being noticed. The minutes were ticking away and he needed to find Jethro, discover what injuries he'd sustained and get him healed, all without attracting attention worthy of a breaking news bulletin or an investigation. Seeing a door for a stairwell, he slipped in and reached into his pocket.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

Dinner at the White House had continued without General Jack O'Neill and Director Jenny Shepard and the only ones concerned about the missing people were sitting at their former table. SecNav and the Secretary of Homeland Security had simply stated that something had come up to call them away, but it was obvious that nobody really believed that. In truth, the two didn't know as much as they pretended. They knew that Director Shepard had left to deal with the NCIS operation going on near Norfolk and would not be back, but they didn't have any idea where O'Neill was or what he was doing. The SecNav had seen him go into the Green Room but he hadn't come out with the President and the others. When he had casually mentioned General O'Neill to the CNO when they were all returning to the East Room, he'd been glared at and told "He's busy." The SOHS thought being close to SOS Rice would get her some answers but the woman had ignored her question and gone into the dining room without another word.

The salad course dishes had been cleared away including all the unfinished ones and a new wine selection poured for the guests. SecNav's wife had switched from diet ginger ale to wine while the General and her hubby stayed with water, but asked for lime instead of lemon. Dessert would be served in a couple of minutes and the guests waited while listening to soft musical selections from the Navy quintet.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

Jack had been beamed back aboard the Asgard vessel as soon as he'd wrapped his hand around the stone and Penegal was waiting for him. "Have you located your friend?"

He told the alien what he'd been doing since beaming down while they examined the radiology area a little more closely. At first the little Asgard didn't believe that he'd sent Jack to the wrong place, but after seeing the hospital layout he admitted to possibly getting it wrong and then together they planned a new strategy using the information Jack had gained from walking around. Plan A had worked, but only so far. Now it was time for plan B, plan C, plan D and if he was honest about it, possibly plans E, F and G.

Using holographic projection capability and closely monitoring human signatures and security devices, Penegal had been able to place Jack in one room at a time in the radiology department. So far he'd been to two x-ray rooms and a room for ultrasounds. Penegal had just dropped him into another room when he caught sight of three people walking through the short hall between x-ray and ultrasound. He instantly leaned back, pulling his chest and head behind the door opening and listened.

"I hate nights," a gruff sounding male announced.

"Quit bellyaching. You got a good job and a kid on the way." The voice had also been male, but sounded much younger.

"Yeah, I do," the man conceded. "Just wish I could spend more time with my wife."

"C'mon you guys, they're waiting for the patient in pre-op."

Jack wasn't sure about pre-op, but he knew how to get to the operating rooms and he hoped it wasn't Jethro who they planned to take there. He heard, "Guess the CT showed something," and peeking around the edge of the doorway, he watched as they turned down another hallway.

As soon as Penegal brought him back he told him, "Okay, I need to go here," and pointed to a room on the screen. He couldn't be sure the room at the end of that corridor housed the big donut CT scanner, but it was a good place to go next. The Asgard studied the display and Jack added, "I should…" He looked at the alien, trying to use his eyes, eyebrows and face to convey what he meant. Thor would have understood, but would Penegal? Apparently not, so he added, "Sneak around a little."

Solid black Asgard eyes stared at him and Jack could have sworn he saw a small smile before the little Asgard mouth formed the words, "I understand, General O'Neill."

Penegal transported Jack to the side of a tall supply rack where he stayed while he looked around. Across a corridor there were patients in what looked like a holding area and he stepped over to check it out. The room wasn't large, but it wasn't small and it smelled like disinfectant with something biological thrown in. A woman in peach colored scrubs was tending to a patient on the far side and Jack tried to look at each of the others to see if Jethro was there. They all looked to be asleep or unconscious and he ducked around behind a bed to see if the patient with pillows propped all around was his friend.

It turned out to be an elderly man with white hair who was awake and reacted with surprise when he saw his visitor.

Jack watched the man's blue eyes open wide, but he just smiled and whispered, "How ya doing?"

The guy's eyes opened even wider and the creases around his mouth appeared deeper when he smiled at Jack and said, "Not too bad."

Jack put his finger to his lips to indicate quiet and glanced over to the peach clad woman to make sure she was still busy with the other patient. The man turned his head to look around the room as much as he could before softly whispering, "Not too bad."

With the low light his pupils should have been larger, but they were quite constricted and Jack figured he'd been given something, probably for pain.

With a smile he replied, "That's good." Then he snapped to the man being in a hospital and he asked, "Why are you here?"

He stared for a few seconds before releasing his breath in a harsh whisper. "Fell."

Jack looked at the pillows and made a guess based on their placement and the man's age. "Hip?"

The guy nodded sadly, his gaze drifting a little, probably from the drugs he'd been given.

Jack waited a few seconds before placing his hand gently on the man's shoulder and asking, "Bad?"

The poor old fellow looked distressed when he mouthed the words, "They think so," and slowly closed his eyes.

Hearing footfalls Jack ducked down just as someone stuck their head in the doorway proclaiming, "Your TBI is up." He still couldn't see the patient she was hovering around so he decided to go back out to the corridor and find the CT room. Hearing voices from down a short hall, he checked doors and door openings for access and was careful to walk gingerly so he wouldn't be heard. Just as he passed an open door, voices got louder and he ducked in. Two men walked past and after waiting a few seconds, Jack reentered the hall. Around a corner he could see an open door labeled CT Control and he searched for a vantage point to check out what was going on in the actual test room. He found that vantage point pretty much by accident when he saw a man come out an adjacent door and leave it open. Jack could hear running water and knew it was a toilet tank filling.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

The woman had been talking practically non-stop as the taxi driver maneuvered through the traffic going south. He'd tried to block out her rapid jabbering, but it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do and he snickered quietly, wondering if she was always like that and how her family and co-workers put up with it.

When she paused to take a breath he quickly interjected, "You want to go to hospital?"

Looking at him in the rear view mirror and scooting a little forward on the backseat she replied, "Yes! But I don't know which one. At least not yet. I will know which hospital before we get there, but I don't know right now. McGee didn't know and Ducky didn't know. There is more than one hospital that they could have taken Gibbs to, but Ducky said he hopes they took him to the level 1 trauma center because a level 1 trauma center is good if you're hurt really bad, but it's also bad if you're hurt really bad because you're hurt… really bad. I hope Gibbs isn't hurt really bad. I just couldn't bear it if he was. You see…"

The cabbie shook his head, wondering if he should have looked at her credit card before agreeing to take her, and concentrated on his driving while trying to block out what she was going on about. Except for her weird hairstyle, strange Goth outfit complete with what looked to be a dog collar and her kooky disposition, the woman had been one of his most interesting fares, but he had to admit to being a little freaked out by what looked like a web tattoo on the side of her neck… complete with spider.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

Jack stayed behind a lavatory door adjacent to both the scan room and the control room where a technician was seated. On the other side of the viewing glass in the scan room were the three men he'd seen just a couple of minutes before. They plus a fourth man were lifting a patient from the narrow CT bed onto a gurney they'd had placed beside it. The man had probably stayed still for the procedure, but started moving around as soon as he could so it took a few moments to get him transferred safely. As they covered him with a lightweight blanket he calmed a little, probably resigned to whatever they had planned for him.

Knowing he needed to find Jethro, Jack planned to wait only long enough for them to bring in the next poor soul. And he didn't have to wait long. Through the door that they'd taken the man appeared a gurney with five escorts. Two of the men had helped with the previous person, two were new and the fifth, the woman in peach, was rhythmically squeezing a purple bag to provide air for the intubated patient. Using a microphone, the technician in the control room asked the people in the scan room to double check the patient's ID wristband and when Jack heard the response he knew he wouldn't have to look any further.

Another man, this one wearing a uniform under a white lab coat, entered the room from the other side and Jack was suddenly worried that someone would want to use the facilities, but the man went right over to the technician instead.

Casually waving his hand toward the glass he asked, "That the TBI?"

"Yeah. Traumatic brain injury trumps hip, intermittent ab pain, kidney stones and stable MVA every time."

Jack looked at the men transferring Gibbs to the narrow table. His friend was a mess, but beyond the obvious physical injuries and assisted breathing, he looked small and vulnerable. A traumatic brain injury could be life threatening, career ending, disabling, possibly devastating and Jack quickly returned his attention to the conversation between the two men in the control room so that he could find out as much as possible.

Instead of a conversation, the new guy was looking at a clip board inside a folder and quietly reading out loud. "Gibbs. GCS less than eight, equal sluggish, one twenty eight over eighty five, seventy six, ninety seven seven, ninety eight percent, burns and abrasions." He leaned toward the microphone and said, "Get a pressure on him," and Jack decided he was a doctor, probably a radiology specialist.

"Tolliver ordered head. We'll start with that," the man addressed the technician.

The tech started typing information into the terminal, but then paused to ask, "One of the ER guys who brought him said he's an NCIS agent and an explosion got him." It was said with a certain amount of pride attached, as if being almost blown up made Jethro a celebrity or some kind of folk hero.

"His pressure is one eighteen over seventy two."

The sudden announcement startled the two men in the control room, but they recovered quickly.

The guy Jack thought was a doctor glanced into the scan room and stared intently at Jethro for a couple of seconds before half mumbling, "Pressure's dropped."

The technician paused. He seemed to know the doctor would be giving him new instructions.

"Head first then we'll see where we are." The technician continued typing.

Jethro had been moved to the narrow scanner table and Jack watched as one of the men assisted the woman to hook him up to the machine that would breathe for him during the test. GCS of less than eight probably meant severe traumas and Jack knew enough to understand that explosions cause sudden air pressure changes that even with the absence of skull fracture can result in concussion when the brain is shaken inside the skull and bruising can occur as well as bleeding.

He also understood enough about medical things to know that dropping blood pressure could be shock, loss of blood, change in body temperature, heart failure, infection, drug reaction…. all kinds of things. His friend had been intubated which was pretty common in head injuries and he had an IV. He'd have a urinary catheter soon if he didn't already and they would have given him drugs to put in the breathing tube and medications to both stabilize him and keep him unconscious. Jack had noticed that his hands, wrists and forearms were a mess and his face wasn't much better. They'd been in such a hurry to get him to CT that they hadn't cleaned him up yet.

The tech finished his data input and asked, "What about his legs... and arms?"

The doctor looked at the chart before announcing, "No abrasions or visible hematomas. Good femoral pulses. Good dorsalis pedis and posterior tibial." He read silently for a few seconds before saying, "Face, hands and wrists are another story. Burns and abrasions... could have shrapnel." The technician looked like he'd tasted something disgusting, but didn't respond. The doctor put down the chart and asked, "You about ready?"

Jack kicked himself for waiting so long. He had known he and Penegal had to act before they had actual evidence of Jethro's injuries. He stepped back to close the door so they wouldn't see the light from the transport beam and reached for the stone.

Materializing on board the ship, Jack rushed to Penegal's side to explain skipping from plan B all the way to plan E because Jethro's injuries were about to become "officially" documented.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

With its emergency alert lights flashing, the NCIS Medical Examiner's truck sped along the highway with three official cars filled with agents following behind. The drive to Norfolk only seemed to be taking a long time. In reality they were getting there much faster than normal especially since it was after dark. Traffic hadn't been too terribly heavy and as soon as drivers saw the pulsing colored lights they were changing lanes to let the mini caravan get past them. Just before Richmond a Virginia State Police cruiser, with its own lights flashing, had joined them in an attempt to provide an escort through the congestion. The trooper had waved at them and then passed the truck: his distinctive black straw campaign hat resting on the dashboard and both a shotgun and rifle secured in the gun rack. A few miles to the south, as soon as the traffic had thinned, he'd left them by pulling off onto a worn vehicle path between the northbound and southbound lanes.

"Watch the road, Mr. Palmer," Ducky lectured gently, "We do want to get there in one piece."

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy had replied, knowing he'd been driving as fast as he could in the darkness while still being careful. They'd had moonlight for a while, but clouds had been moving in and as soon as the lights of Richmond were behind them, the darkness was indeed… dark. Black in fact. Dr. Mallard didn't like venturing too far away from the Navy Yard at night and he was also worried about Special Agent Gibbs. Jimmy knew they were close friends, as close as either one of them allowed the other to be, and though he hadn't said much, the doctor displayed all the signs of being under stress. Not wanting to add to the older man's condition, Jimmy had stayed quiet, answering questions with brief answers and driving as fast and as carefully as he could to get them to the port and the site of the explosion.

TBC

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Begging for feedback and reviews wasn't very successful when I posted my story "Private Mission" so this time I won't bother… begging. Instead I'll just say my reward for writing is reviews and chapter 8 is almost ready. Thanks for reading. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or sent me a private message. I appreciate all of you very much.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Back aboard the space vessel Jack rushed over to Penegal. "I found him, but..."

With a fixed stare the Asgard regarded the human, who at first appeared a little flushed before looking more than a little peeved about being observed. The plan had been to find the friend, put the medical strip on him and then decide what to do based on that information, but no medical data had been streamed from the device. He watched Jack pace from the console to the viewing port and back again.

Jack wasn't frantic, but he was worried. They had a limited amount of time and a very narrow window of opportunity to get to Jethro. He quickly finished his sentence. "They're already running a test on him."

Penegal blinked long and slow a couple of times. "Show me."

Pointing to a room in a sea of rooms in the radiology department, Jack explained about the layout, the people he had seen there and the CT scanner, and in only a minute they had shuffled their plans and altered their ideas to come up with something else. Being okay with a plan and believing it would truly work were two very different things.

"You can do that?" It wasn't that Jack didn't believe it possible. He just wanted confirmation.

"The room is shielded; however, I have detected a gap." With a tiny bob of his head Penegal admitted, "Timing will be critical."

Jack tried not to scoff. "Don't we need to synchronize our watches or something?"

The little Asgard mouth seemed to smirk, if that was possible, before stating, "Touch the stone when you are ready. I will know."

"Okay." Jack shrugged and nodded vaguely, knowing that he couldn't do anything without Penegal.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

With the lights dimmed in both the scan and control rooms, the test on Jethro had started out just fine with the first images appearing completely normal. The radiologist had seen them come up on the screen, but then had looked away for only a few seconds when the tech groaned. Looking back he'd found them all changing, even the fresh ones before he could preliminarily examine them. "What's causing that?"

"I have no idea," the technician growled. He had never seen the computer control act so squirrelly before and instinctively knew the problem was something he would not be able to resolve by himself. "We're gonna have to get a factory rep."

"Turn down the lights a little more and pause it," the doctor advised, hoping the change would make it easier to see the display. He needed to get good pictures of the man's head for a proper diagnosis.

Jack materialized in the lavatory and immediately cracked opened the door to look across into the control room where the lights had been dimmed. The doctor and technician were staring at the display screen where something was happening. The room lights had dimmed even more and all of the small images of Jethro's head displayed in rows and columns were distorting until much of the screen was nothing more than a blurry mess. After verifying that the big white x-ray tube was no longer rotating around his friend who was still unconscious on the table, Jack hunched down into a partial squat and touched the stone in his pocket. He was immediately transported into the scan room behind the machine where nobody would see him. At least not right away. The room was sealed and shielded and he took a moment to silently thank Penegal for finding a gap to safely send him through.

He looked over to the glass to see what he could see and the two men in the control room were looking around, probably trying to figure out where a flash of light might have come from, but after a few seconds they were again looking at the monitor. It seemed the interference Penegal had provided was still working so keeping low Jack got to his friend's side and reached up to place the thin strip of plastic-y material against his bare skin. It was not a short reach because Jethro's head and upper body were still inside the big ring, but he managed and it warmed against his fingers as soon as he pressed it to Jethro's chest. In another second the table made a rumbling sound as it moved out of the gantry and startled, Jack hunched down a little more behind the big donut. He peekd over the back in time to see the technician on the phone and the doctor walking toward the door opening. In another few seconds Jack heard the door to the scan room clunk open and he could hear the tech talking to someone, probably on the phone and the sound of a rolling cart of some kind as the wheels bumped on the breaks in the tile floor. Then he heard the doctor's footfalls coming close.

"You're still here," the man jokingly told the unconscious Gibbs and Jack almost choked on a laugh before suddenly suppressing it. "We have a technical malfunction so you need to sit tight for a few minutes." Jack heard fabric rustling, a click and then the tell tale thumping sound of the machine automatically inflating a blood pressure cuff. After a full minute the man quietly announced, "One twelve over sixty nine and pulse is eighty four. Not great, but you're hanging in there." After the ripping sound of Velcro which Jack guessed was the cuff being removed, he crouched down a little more as the guy came around to check the ventilator and the position of the blue plastic extension hosing. Jack realized he'd been holding his breath and was careful not to make a sound when he finally exhaled and took a fresh breath as the doctor did something to the IV. In another few seconds he was gone with the door closing behind him and the room again sealed.

He knew he could see into the control room a lot more clearly than anyone could see him so he glanced up into the glass of the viewing window once again. Another person had joined the other two and Jack figured it was another technician since more than likely the hospital wouldn't have a CT field service engineer readily available. The three men were talking and gesturing and Jack hoped that since the doctor had checked Jethro that they would all stay in the control room for a while longer. Since ventilators could be equipped with monitoring and alarm systems for patient related parameters and function, Jack knew Penegal had the right idea to transport all the equipment along with Jethro so he waited until he was sure the men weren't looking into the scan room before he reached for the stone. Hoping he and Penegal hadn't overlooked anything, Jack closed his hand around the object and waited.

The overhead lights in both rooms and the hallway went out completely for a full two seconds before going extremely bright all at once. When they returned to the previous illumination, Jethro, the IV stand and the ventilator machine were gone and in their place was a hologram which looked very real, even to Jack. The lights were at a minimum and from Jack's position crouched behind the scanner, the men in the control room were looking around, but did not appear to be too alarmed as they returned their concentration to the computer and monitor. Satisfied, Jack touched the stone a second time.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

Jenny Shepard tried to stay positive. The drive had been tedious so far and she found herself thinking about how great it would be to have super or magical powers. Samantha or Endora would have just zapped themselves to the hospital in nothing flat. Jeannie would have bobbed her head, flicking her ponytail and been to Jethro's side instantly. Wonder Woman would have flown there a lot faster than the dang car she was riding in. The bionic woman would have run to the hospital in a flash.

Knowing she couldn't get there any faster, she changed her attention to thinking about her arrival in the emergency room lobby wearing an evening gown. Jenny grinned because it would most certainly cause a little bit of a stir. She looked damn good: she knew it and all the men at the White House dinner had known it. The women knew it too, but Jenny didn't like to think about them. Had she dressed for herself, for the men or for other women? Jenny always dressed for herself first and she loved the gown she had chosen for the evening, but she had been keenly aware of the way most of the men at the WH dinner had looked at her. And yes, she had liked it.

Happy to have a go bag in the trunk, she silently debated whether to change before or after seeing about Jethro. Having never gotten out of the habit from when she was a field agent, her bag contained two changes of clothing, personal items, cash, toiletries and even extra ammunition. Her gym bag was also in the trunk, but the clothes in it were sweaty and she'd go into the hospital wearing nothing but a towel before she'd put the shorts and t-shirt back on. She still had time to think about changing so she concentrated instead on the drive. It had been a few minutes since Fredericksburg and they'd passed a sign for Bowling Green, Carmel Church and Ashland so Jenny directed her attention out the front windshield of the car looking for the lights of Richmond. She could see some lights, but nothing like she expected. They were still too far away to see much of anything, especially with the rolling hills and heavily wooded areas blocking any view. They passed a huge lighted billboard and Jenny giggled softly. Tipping her head back onto the seat, she smiled and contented herself with humming and then softly singing "Smiling like the girl wearing nothing but a smile and a towel in the picture on the billboard in the field near the old highway" until she saw her driver looking at her in the rear view mirror.

After that she stayed quiet with her thoughts of times spent with Jethro when they were partners and how his heart had ended up in tiny pieces scattered by the girl in the towel on that old highway. It wasn't a morbid thing to do. They'd gone their separate ways and now it was her being hopeful by remembering the bullet wounds, scrapes and near misses that Jethro had survived and how improbable it would be for him to not make it through this time. And of course along with those memories were lots more of friendship, good food, excellent wine and smooth bourbon, walks in romantic places, songs that stuck in your brain, laughter that made your sides ache and your face hurt, and last but certainly not least, memories of making love. She and Jethro had lots and lots of shared memories and she settled her mind on remembering those times instead of worrying about whether or not he was going to be alive when she arrived at the hospital. To do otherwise was unacceptable… for now.

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

The little Asgard hadn't wasted any time placing Jethro in the medical pod. Jack knew that like Thor and most Asgard, Penegal probably wouldn't like a lot of questions or interruptions when he worked so he stayed quiet while he paced and watched, and paced some more. What seemed like many minutes had actually only been one or maybe two when Penegal turned from the medical pod to address him.

"This human has been gravely injured."

A little stunned, Jack stared at the pod and softly asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"There is substantial concussion and contusion to both head and body," Penegal explained before turning back to the console.

Jack thought again about explosions and sudden air pressure changes that result in concussion when the brain is shaken inside the skull. And he knew that contusions were bruises. Without hitting your head or body against another surface, an explosion could still cause severe if not fatal injury and a graphic vision of the white butterfly effect popped into his head making him wince. Jethro would probably already be dead if he had severe internal injuries so hoping Penegal could do more than just save his life, Jack concentrated on understanding what he'd been told.

Settling his attention back to the Asgard, Jack confessed. "He has a shook up bruised brain and internal injuries."

Penegal seemed to frown before responding. "That is correct."

Jack couldn't help himself and continued to pace from the pod to the console and back again. During each pass he glanced at Jethro who looked pale except for the scrapes and blood on his head, face and hands. He had an urge to clean him up, but knew the medical personnel would notice when Jethro was returned.

Penegal continued to work, but he was aware of Jack's interest and need for information. "There is evidence of several prior injuries."

Jack knew about his friend's previous head injury and 19 day coma, bullet and shrapnel wounds, his leg, knee and hip and other assorted damage that had been done to him over the years. "Can you fix him?" He flinched when he heard himself ask that question in that way.

Penegal's head bobbed up and down just as the normally clear viewing panel began to look frosted inside.

Jack stared as the pod glowed and the clear panel turned white. "I don't remember seeing it do that before," he mumbled, moving closer to see what was going on and momentarily forgetting that Penegal had not yet answered his question. After a few seconds he remembered and accepted that maybe the head bob had been a yes. The air inside the pod looked like fog and he reached out to touch the panel, finding it cool, but not cold, and still it glowed.

Anticipating Jack's curiosity, Penegal announced, "I have changed the atmosphere, temperature and pressure inside the pod."

Jack could not see Jethro's face or his body. A minute went by and then another and Penegal kept working until finally the air inside the pod cleared and he announced, "His condition has stabilized."

Jack had faith in Asgard healing abilities and hope that Jethro would be fine, but he couldn't stop the worry that niggled at his brain. "So he'll be okay?"

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

They were using borrowed supplies, had too few NCIS personnel and were carrying too much worry. None of them had heard anything since Gibbs had been taken to the hospital and Ducky and the others were still about an hour and a half away; longer unless they seriously exceeded the speed limit.

He tried to sound casual; just another day at a crime scene. "How's it going?"

Ziva knew he was being anything but casual. "The crew members are angry, especially the Captain."

DiNozzo had seen the man when he'd been taken into custody and angry was an understatement. The bomb had damaged his ship and rather than being treated like a victim, he was considered a suspect and had been detained accordingly, away from the rest of his crew. Those men had all been rounded up, had pat downs bordering on strip searches and US Customs agents were busy taking their fingerprints and photos while keeping them from speaking to each other. They were also using the crew manifest and customs records to try to account for everyone who should have been on the freighter at the time of the explosion to make sure nobody had gotten away in the chaos.

Ziva stated confidently, "I do not believe there are more bombs."

DiNozzo nodded his head in agreement. "I don't either. ATF looked, Homeland Security looked, the dogs sniffed and you did your thing."

Ziva didn't look amused, but knew Tony had been dealing with the incident in his own warped way. He was concerned about Gibbs and had been thrust into taking charge and she herself wanted something to do where she could express the aggravation she'd been feeling. They'd been left out of the mission when Gibbs and the customs agent boarded the freighter. They had been there but across the water they'd been in no position to provide backup of any kind. The blast had almost killed their team leader whom she had great affection for and the thought of Gibbs dying before she could tell him bothered her to the point of actual physical pain. When she shot and killed her half-brother Ari, death took that bond, but a new one had instantly formed when Gibbs had touched and then squeezed her hand in a sympathetic gesture. Now she and Gibbs shared a new, special bond and she hadn't yet found a comfort zone where she could tell him. She was secretly afraid that she might never get the chance, and that helpless feeling had manifested into visible signs of anger and frustration, and outward indifference.

DiNozzo told her in his usual know-it-all style, "Ducky and the autopsy gremlin will set a new land speed record to get here so in the meantime let's keep doing what we do best."

Ziva nodded vaguely before expressing herself in a clipped, kind of annoyed way. "McGee has been working on sketches and photographs in the areas around the laundry room." The anger and frustration she'd been feeling was almost overwhelming and it wasn't something she'd experienced in a very long time. She didn't like it and it showed. "I will go and help him finish and then perhaps we should begin interrogations."

DiNozzo had noticed her hostile demeanor and fixed her in a steely gaze before quipping, "Why? So you can hit somebody?"

Ziva smirked and waited a full two or even three seconds before replying. "Perhaps."

**SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS~SG~NCIS**

Penegal hadn't replied right away to his query about whether or not Jethro would be okay so Jack waited, but instead of pacing he pulled nervously on his dog tags which slid easily along the chain as it hugged the back of his neck.

Finally the little Asgard announced, "I have corrected the internal damage and reversed the nerve damage in his left hand and wrist."

That sounded positive, like very good news. Nerve damage was never a good thing so having it resolved was excellent, but Penegal had not been exactly forthcoming with information and Jack still had questions.

Tugging on the tags as his hand swept back and forth in front of his neck, he asked, "What kind of internal damage?"

Speaking succinctly the Asgard replied, "Hemorrhage."

Jack stared at him while his brain processed the one word answer. Hemorrhage meant bleeding, but what had been bleeding? Penegal had met his gaze, their eyes not wavering until Jack blinked. Then he stammered, "Wha… what was bleeding?"

With his vision once again directed at the medical display console, Penegal figured out that Jack needed and wanted more information and while he had never been much of a conversationalist, the Asgard did recognize concern. "Primarily kidney. Also spleen." He paused before adding, "Severe contusions."

Jethro hadn't moved and still looked pale as Jack took in the information. It was good that Penegal could heal the severe bruising and internal injuries when other types of damage must be a lot more difficult. Jack took a moment to wonder and then almost didn't want to ask. "And his brain?"

Penegal kept his head down and fiddled with a couple of dials and knobs before announcing in a pretty compassionate way, "Substantial contusion requiring more healing followed by sufficiant time for recovery."

Jack's jaw clenched and he knew he should be glad that Jethro would be okay, but he hated thinking about him having a long drawn convalescence. And he was informed enough to know that even the Asgard couldn't promise total recovery from a brain injury.

Suddenly remembering that Jethro would probably have vital information, a long recuperation was not an option. "How much time?"

The Asgard raised his head, looking thoughtful. "I do not know."

Jack wanted to know more, but he wasn't sure what else to ask about Jethro right at that moment so he changed the direction of his concentration and asked, "Think you should send me back down there to make sure nobody has discovered him missing?"

With a nod of his head he declared, "Touch the stone when you wish to return."

And just like that Jack was back in the shielded room behind the CT scanning machine. The projected image of Jethro and the respirator still looked good and the three men were still working in the control room so with nothing else to do he touched the stone to have Penegal retrieve him.

TBC

**Note:** Borrowed the song lyrics from "Girl on the Billboard" recorded by Del Reeves and written by Walter Haynes and Samuel Garrett aka Hank Mills.

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Thanks for reading. Please review. :)


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